Eladlín's Journey
by SilverElf
Summary: The firstborn of Lord Elros has but one wish. He wants to see the elves.
1. Chapter 1: Only a Parent's Love

Disclaimer for the entire story: I do not own Tolkien's things. I do not claim to. So don't sue me.  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 1: Only a Parent's Love  
  
  
  
  
  
"I hate you Papa!" screamed Eladlín as his small legs carried him out of the throne room.  
  
"You should not have been so harsh with him." chided Lhorrindel.  
  
Elros massaged his temple slowly. "I know. He is so frustrating though. Why does he always refuse listen to me?"  
  
"Because he is not like you. And you can not accept that." she replied.  
  
"Why...that...is...absurd!"  
  
"No, it is the truth. I have watched him with the other little boys. They make fun of him because he is different. He does not want to play their games; he has no interest in swordplay. You are too busy to see it," Elros made a motion to speak, but Lhorrindel silenced him, "but I do not blame you. The task before you is one not easily carried."  
  
"Well, what would you have me do then? He hates me; you heard him say it." he asked finally.  
  
"Talk to him. Your heart will do the rest."  
  
Elros sighed and followed his son's footsteps from the palace. He knew Eladlín would be near the ocean, for that had been his secret place since he was a little boy. How life had been back then. He had had everything. A loving son and wife, a new land, a new life. Now it seemed to be falling apart. The drought had been particularly bad, and the crops were poor. His people blamed him for the their misfortunes. Now even Eladlín had turned against him, and Lhorrindel grew colder with each passing day. Perhaps he had made the wrong choice after all. A small sob made him swing around. Eladlín sat on a boulder, a small book held in his slender lap. His short brown hair whipped around in the wind, making his slim face seem even smaller. Elros stopped for a moment and watched. He looked so much like his Uncle. Elros felt a small pang in his heart. It had always been the one tug towards immortality in his heart. He missed Elrond so, but they had walked down their separate paths a long time ago. And life could not be unwound.  
  
"Eladlín?" asked Elros softly. The small boy looked up into his father's eyes. He was nearly six, though his wisdom reached far beyond his years.  
  
"Leave me alone, Papa. I want to read." said Eladlín, motioning to the book.  
  
"Please Eladlín. I need to talk to you."  
  
Eladlín sighed softly and laid his book down in his lap. "What did I do THIS time?"  
  
"You have done nothing wrong, but I can not understand you. Why do you ignore me? I would not be as harsh if you would simply do what I say."  
  
"I hate what you say. I would rather read."  
  
"You dislike hunting?" Elros asked incredulously.  
  
"Not with a sword. I want to use a bow, and go by horseback."  
  
"Where did you get those ideas?"  
  
"Here, in Mama's book. She gave it to me when the other boys..." his voice trailed off. Elros sensed what he was trying to say and quickly changed the subject.  
  
"What book is it?"  
  
"The book of Elvish Lore. It has all their stories, and the way they live, and their treehouses..."  
  
"Wait a moment." interrupted Elros "And you, you like these elves?"  
  
"I do indeed Papa. Where do they live? I have never seen one."  
  
"There" said Elros, pointing out over the ocean, "on the other side of the sea there is a great land where men, elves, and dwarves live in harmony."  
  
"Dwarves? What are they?"  
  
"A small people. They live in mountains and collect jewels. They make loyal friends, and fierce enemies."  
  
"Hmm" said Eladlín, thinking it all over in his mind, "Why do we live here then Papa?"  
  
"I led our people to this land many years ago, and the other races did not follow."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"For many reasons, none of which you would understand."  
  
"Oh. Can we go back Papa?"  
  
"Go back?"  
  
"Go back to the other land. I want to see the elves. I, I do not fit in here. No one likes me, except Mama. I like elves better than men."  
  
Elros felt the deep sting of his son's words, even though they had not been directed at him. There had always been that shred of doubt, and it grew stronger daily. He rose quickly.  
  
"I must speak with Mama, Eladlín. Will you come back in time for supper?"  
  
Eladlín nodded, though he was too engrossed in his book to answer with words.  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
Elros finished retelling the afternoon's events.  
  
"And what do you think we should do?" she asked him.  
  
"I think we should let him go."  
  
  
  
  
  
End of chapter 1 


	2. Chapter 2: Ends and Beginnings

Chapter 2: Ends and Beginnings  
  
Lhorrindel turned away, unable to mask the grief in her face. "I have felt that pull as well. I agree, as much as I will miss my little boy."  
  
"I have only his happiness in mind. He will fair better in the realm of the elves; I am sure of it."  
  
Eladlín chose this moment to enter the throne room. "What will we have for dinner Mama?" he asked.  
  
"You have to ask Laurelin, Eladlín. I need talk to your father."  
  
Eladlín had heard more "grown-up" conversations than he cared to count. They always had something to do with trouble, but it never concerned him. He listened for a few minutes, lost interest, and trotted off into the kitchen. A large friendly woman stood tossing meat in a frying pan. She looked down to see Eladlín tugging gently on her skirt.  
  
"Why hello little master! What can I get for you this evening?"  
  
"Hullo Laurelin. What have you made for dinner tonight?"  
  
"Why, only your favorite meal! Stewed rabbit with potatoes, carrots, and a bit of cabbage."  
  
"Thank you Laurelin!" squeaked Eladlín, reaching out and hugging her legs.  
  
She smiled softly, "Go on, little master. Sit down with your parents, and I shall bring it out in a minute."  
  
"Are you sure you can carry it all?" he asked, looking dubiously at the large pot.  
  
"I can manage better than you can, little master. Besides, I have Cerin (another servant) to help me. Now hurry and meet your parents before you are late! I see no need to anger Lord Elros again."  
  
"Yes Laurelin." replied Eladlín as he turned to go back to his parents. He entered the dining room to find it filled with the usual evening crowd. He bowed courteously to the ladies and shook hands with the gentlemen. They all commented on how much he had grown and what a proper little lad he was. Inwardly he grimaced at the fake compliments, but to the world he smiled graciously and moved slowly towards his seat; only to find his father occupying it. "Papa?" he asked.  
  
"Come, Eladlín. It is high time you learned your place in the world."  
  
Eladlín cocked his head, unsure of his father's meaning. Elros stood and offered his hand. "Come quickly, or we shall be late." He led Eladlín up to the head of the largest table, where two chairs had been squeezed together.  
  
"Oh Papa! You mean..."  
  
"Yes. You will eat with me at the high table tonight."  
  
"Thank you!" exclaimed Eladlín. His tiny face glowed with pride as he took his seat next to his father. Even Lhorrindel was not allowed to sit at the high table; it was reserved for men with pressing business. Laurelin and Cerin brought forth the pot from the kitchen and walked around ladling stew into bowls. Eladlín and Elros were the first to be served. Laurelin made sure Eladlín got an extra lump of potatoes. He grinned at her. "Look at me!" he whispered, "I am all grown-up now!"  
  
She laughed, "Indeed you are little master." and ruffled his hair.  
  
The meal progressed uneventfully. Eladlín did not speak again for some time because the matters discussed to not seem to concern his family, and he was unsure of what to say. Finally, long after the stew had grown cold, his father spoke of boats. Eladlín's ears grew keen, and he listened intently to conversation.  
  
"It is high time we send a return voyage to the Old World. We should not sever the ties with our brothers."  
  
"Aye!" called another, "We are in need of supplies from that land. We should send a trading ship."  
  
"Aye!" they chorused. "You have great wisdom, Lord Elros."  
  
"But who should captain the ship? And who should go?" questioned one of the wealthier merchants.  
  
"I will remain here, for I must govern our people. My son will take my place."  
  
Upon hearing his name, Eladlín's eyes grew wide and his mouth moved soundlessly. After a few minutes, he found his voice, "My, my Lord..." he said, barely remembering his father's proper name.  
  
Elros smiled at him. "I believe Siriondil should captain the ship. You shall accompany Siriondil as his companion, Eladlín."  
  
He stared at Elros in unflattering disbelief. "Are, are you sure, my Lord?"  
  
"Very sure." replied Elros as the evening bell rang. "But I have kept you long enough my friends. We shall discuss this further another day." He rose, thus signaling the end to the meal. "Good evening gentlemen."  
  
"Good evening, my Lord." they replied as they collected their wives and their coats. Within a few minutes, the room had emptied.  
  
"Mama! Mama!" cried Eladlín, "Did you hear Papa? I'm going to see the elves!"  
  
Lhorrindel crouched down and hugged her boy. "I know dear. I think it is wonderful!"  
  
"'Tis more than wonderful...it is...it is...amazing!"  
  
Elros walked over to join them. "Papa!" yelled Eladlín, freeing himself from his mother's embrace. Elros had just looked down when a small brown bullet hit his legs hard enough to knock him over. Slowly Eladlín reached up his father's body and gripped his shoulders tightly. "I love you, my Papa."  
  
Elros' heart leaped. He had waited so long to hear those simple words. Eladlín had always been very distant from him; he had not embraced him, never mind kissed him, since he was a small babe. He stood with Eladlín still attached to his shoulders. "I love you too, my little boy."  
  
Eladlín looked up at him and beamed before burying his head back into Elros' shoulder. "Thank you Papa." said a small muffled voice. Lhorrindel had watched this scene with a mixed emotion. She was glad to finally see a bond between her son and her husband, yet sad that it came as her son left their home. She reached out and put her hand on Elros' shoulder. "I believe it is time for bed." she told him, motioning towards Eladlín. "Will you take care of him?"  
  
"Yes, yes I want Papa." said Eladlín. Elros smiled yet again and walked off. He put Eladlín down on his bed, and turned around while he put on his nightgown.  
  
"Alright Papa."  
  
Elros watched his son climb into bed. "What does your mother normally do?" asked Elros, for he had never put the boy to bed before.  
  
"She reads me a story and tucks me in."  
  
"Well, what story would you like me to read?"  
  
"I care not. You may pick."  
  
Elros thought for a moment, and then began the tale of Elwing and Earendil.  
  
"And off he sailed into the heavens." he finished.  
  
Eladlín had grown very sleepy. "Mama never told me that one. Is it a story, Papa? Or did it really happen? You sound like you knew them."  
  
"Of course it is just a story, Eladlín."  
  
"Hmm" he yawned, "'Night Papa."  
  
"Goodnight Eladlín." replied Elros, but the child had already fallen asleep. Elros tucked the covers around him and kissed his forehead. Eladlín stirred gently and mumbled "Your beard tickles." Elros backed quietly out of the room to find his wife in the doorway,  
  
"He is so peaceful when he sleeps." he said.  
  
"Aye, I often leave our bed in the middle of the night to watch him."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Of course. Why did you think I leave?"  
  
"Well...I have not exactly been the most loving spouse." Elros frowned, but Lhorrindel took his hands.  
  
"You are my husband. And I will love you with all of my heart no matter what happens. I trust you."  
  
Elros smiled gently as she yawned. "Come, it has been a long day."  
  
~~~~~~~~~  
  
The next morning, a young blond man stood nervously in the courtyard. His name was Siriondil, and he had been called before Lord Elros, though he did not know why. Siriondil was of a stocky stature, with hard, callused hands from his work as a mariner. Cerin stepped out into the doorway. "Come forth, master Siriondil!" he called, "The Lord has requested your presence." Siriondil's face paled as he followed Cerin inside. Lord Elros sat at a large wooden table, surrounded by charts and lists. His lined faced glanced up at Siriondil as he walked in. "Sit down, my lad, sit." he told him, motioning to another seat. Siriondil sat perched upon it apprehensively. His Lord looked older than he had ever seen him. Elros sighed as he laid down the last chart. "Whatever shall I do?" he muttered.  
  
"My sir, may I ask why I have been called before you?" asked Siriondil timidly.  
  
"Aye, I am sorry to have kept you Siriondil. I have a favor to ask of you."  
  
Siriondil breathed a sign of relief. Apparently he didn't know about Saturday night. "Anything my Lord."  
  
"I would not rush into this if I were you. We shall send a ship away to the Old World* within the New Year. I ask you to captain it."  
  
"Of course my Lord! I will do it, and gladly!"  
  
"Are you sure?" he gave Siriondil a slightly skeptical look.  
  
"Aye, my Lord! I have family there, and I have always wanted to see the old life, as my parents reminisce about it often."  
  
"Well, this journey may be more than you bargain for."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"I need you to take my son to the Elven refuge of Lindon, and find Elrond. You must leave Eladlín in his care, if Eladlín is happy there."  
  
"And how will I know if he is content?"  
  
"That decision I leave to you. He is not meant for a life among men, for I believe he is more elvish than my brother is! After you have seen the elves, you need to come back to the ship and return to Numenor. If you still decide to do accept my request, then know that I will place my son's life in your hands."  
  
"Aye, or so it would seem." He looked down into his lap and massaged his bare chin. "You are sure I will be able to return?"  
  
"Unless something happens that is unforeseen, yes."  
  
"Then I will take him."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
End of chapter 2 *Hmm what WOULD they have called Middle-Earth? I guess I'll go with the Columbus approach (Old World, New World, get it? haha...right then). Just to add in a few pronunciation notes, Eladlín is E-La-d-Lin (short a, short i). Papa is PA-pa, with the emphasis on the first syllable, same with Mama. Siriondil is Sear-ron-dil. Laurelin is Lore-l-lin.  
  
You know those signs in the zoo that say, "don't feed the monkeys"? Well, they never created a sign that said, "don't feed the writers", so send me a review! I am a hungry little girl! one last note~ I looked up a few new names, and edited out all the conjunctions. I also did a bit a of research on the olden days~ Elrond would have been in Lindon, and that was also the main port in those days, but I'm going to have them land at Edhellond which is a small seaport originally run by men, then taken over (well, the men fled) by elves. By now, elves would have resided there, so its elves who they'll meet. OK, that's it. thanks for all the constructive reviews. 


	3. Chapter 3: Passage into a New World

A/N: Caleb's name has been changed to Siriondil, and some facts in the first two chapters have also been altered, as my reviewers (*waves*) have point out a few mistakes. If anything else seems amiss, please feel free to either email me or say it in a review.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 3 Passage into a New World  
  
"Hurry Eladlín, or we shall be late!" called Lhorrindel. The little boy lugged his suitcase out of his room. She glanced down at him. "Finally! I though you had run away, you took so long. I will take that," she picked up his bags, "and we must go or Papa and Siriondil will be angry!"  
  
Many months had passed since Eladlín's first dinner at the high table. Yet little had changed in the land of men. The fields lay cultivated with the same crops, and a crooked scarecrow still hung near Master Burrow's door. If anything may be said about Numenor, it is that a new ship had appeared in the harbor. It was larger than any ship ever housed in that bay, indeed it was built upon a grander scale than many of Numenor had ever seen. Its large mast held a sail dyed the deep crimson of Lord Elro's courts. It eagerly awaited its departure into the sea. But first a boy named Eladlín had to board it.  
  
"What delays the little master?" asked Siriondil rather peevishly. He looked at up at the waning sun. They should have left an hour ago. The tide was already thinning; soon the window of opportunity would be slammed shut, and the voyage delayed yet again.  
  
"I do not know, Siriondil, but rest assured he will..." Elros was cut off by a high voice.  
  
"Here Papa! I am here!" yelled Eladlín as he ran down the ramp. "I am sorry you had to wait, but I needed to find my blanket. It was missing."  
  
Elros gave a small frown, but quickly covered it with a smile. "'Tis of little importance. Worry not."  
  
Siriondil cleared his throat gently. Elros got the message and bent down to embrace Eladlín. "I will miss you, my little boy."  
  
"Goodbye, Papa."  
  
Lhorrindel came along promptly and had Cerin load the last few bags on the ship. Eladlín freed himself from his father and ran to her. "Mama!" he cried.  
  
She kissed him gently and fought back the rising tears. "Quickly then, my lad. You must board the ship, or Siriondil shall leave without you. She let him go, and he loped after the mariner onto the vessel. The ropes were untied and the small crowd pressed in, so eager were they to say goodbye to their loved ones. A great wind blew through the harbor, giving life to the crimson sails. Eladlín watched his family grow small from the back of the boat. "Mama!" he called, "Papa!"  
  
Elros placed his arm around Lhorrindel's shoulder. "We will wait for you with each passing tide, Eladlín! Follow your heart, and we shall meet at the end of your path!" replied Elros. He spoke softly, but the wind took his voice start to Eladlín and gave him what comfort it could. He would see them again, after all.  
  
Lhorrindel began to weep softly. "I already miss him Elros."  
  
Elros hid the emotion in his face, an elvish quality he had always maintained. "He will be happy. And that is all we can give him."  
  
"But it still hurts," she replied. He patted her growing stomach lovingly. "The others will ebb away the pain, Lhorrindel. One day you will see it too; we have done our best by him. He is in good hands." Slowly they turned away as the ship faded off into the distance. They never heard from Eladlín again, at least not in the living world.  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
"What is that, Siriondil?" asked Eladlín. Siriondil rolled his eyes. This had to be the tenth question in the last thirty seconds. "It is a compass, little master. See how it points towards our intended direction?"  
  
"Are you angry with me?"  
  
Siriondil dropped the compass with a loud crash and spun around. "Now, why would I be angry, little master?" he said with a forced smile.  
  
"Because I know nothing of the sea, and that is your life. My questions must seem absurdly simple to one as knowledgeable as yourself."  
  
Siriondil marveled at how wise the boy was. "You are a bright boy, albeit an unlearned one. Come here." he motioned with his hand, "Come on now, quickly." He led Eladlín to the front of the ship. Siriondil leapt lightly onto the thin railing, balancing precariously as he walked toward the front tip. He turned around, "Come here, Eladlín. They say you are made of fair blood. It should be naught but a small task for you."  
  
Eladlín shrunk back. "I am afraid."  
  
Siriondil jumped down again and took the boys hand. "I will not let you fall. I promise." He helped Eladlín climb onto the railing. The boy teetered for but a second before he found his balance. He grinned at Siriondil, who led him to the very front of the ship. "There," he told the boy, "Stand like that and wait." Another great gust passed through the ship promptly. The wind rocked Eladlín, and he stood with his eyes closed and his arms outstretched. He felt the wind pass through and envelop him, and the smell of the salt tickled his nose. The wind died down, and Siriondil pulled him gently onto the deck.  
  
"Did you feel it? The pull of the wind and the sea..." A light shone deep within Siriondil's eyes.  
  
Eladlín nodded. "Aye, I did."  
  
"Then now you know. That is all there is to the sea. It is as simple as that. It gives me life, breathing softly into my face. The other parts that you questioned, they are nothing. Once you have felt the pull of the sea, they will come in due time." Siriondil walked away from him and took up his charts. Eladlín stayed at the front railing for a long time, watching the path as it led him home.  
  
  
  
*smiles* This is an awfully short chapter, I know, but it seemed like a good place to end it. As always, reviews are appreciated, thanks for telling me what you think. 


	4. Chapter 4: Of Voyages and Ports

A/N: yup Arabella, you think I'd learn by now...but apparently not. Maybe I'll get it all right THIS time..haha fixed chapter 3 too, its all better now.  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 4: Of Voyages and Ports  
  
  
  
Eladlín had been given chart duty for the day. Siriondil was busy teaching the cook how to prepare something other than beef stew, and attending to other various matters. He sat with the large compass and ran his quill across the seas gently, breaking a trail through the blue depths. At long length he dropped the quill back into the inkwell and walked out to the railing. "Beran!" he called. No answer greeted him from the crow's nest. Sighing gently he pulled himself up onto the coarse rope ladder and started the long climb. "Beran!"  
  
"What ails you little master?" questioned the old sailor. He sat inside the small wooden nest, curled up with his familiar pipe.  
  
"Nothing, good sir. I have copies of the day's charts for you."  
  
"Parts?" asked Beran. He was, as previously noted, an aged man, and his hearing was less than to be desired.  
  
"Charts!"  
  
"Oh, charts! You should have said that to begin with!"  
  
Eladlín chose not to reply and held out his work for Beran to inspect. "Aye, 'tis all in order. We shall keep to the western wind, then?"  
  
"Yes." said Eladlín shortly. His ears perked up as he heard a voice from down below.  
  
"Eladlín?" called Siriondil, "Quickly, my boy! I need to speak with you."  
  
"I will see you at the evening meal Beran." yelled Eladlín as he began his descent down the ladder.  
  
"Wheels?"  
  
Eladlín shook his head gently. "That poor old man, no wonder he enjoys the solitude of the nest." He glanced down to see Siriondil waiting rather impatiently for him. He quickened his descent and reached the deck within a few minutes.  
  
"If you had gone just a bit slower, good Ulmo could have traveled around Middle Earth and back before you took a single step!"  
  
"I am sorry, Siriondil. I have not your skill with the ropes."  
  
"No, indeed. But you are learning, my young friend. Come, show me your work."  
  
Eladlín started off towards his cabin and Siriondil followed him slowly. Much had changed between him and Eladlín since that first day on the sea. They had grown very close, and their relationship resembled that of a father and his son. He was very proud of Eladlín, for he was an apt young boy who learned quickly and eagerly. Siriondil could not imagine life without the vivacious little lad, and he knew he would miss him dearly when the time came for him to leave the Old World.  
  
Eladlín laid his charts upon the worn wooden table and eagerly explained the day's route. "I felt the pull of a western wind this morning, so I have planned our course for it. The chart says the sea will swell here, but we have a sturdy little ship, and it should fare well through the waves."  
  
Siriondil bent down over the charts and traced the path with his hands. He looked up briefly at Eladlín. "I could have done it no better myself."  
  
Eladlín beamed. Siriondil would give him no higher compliment than that.  
  
"But look! You have forgotten something!"  
  
"And what is that?" asked Eladlín, unwilling that his path should be wrong.  
  
"The land, my boy! We shall reach it by the waning of the evening sun."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The ship had been readied and crept slowly towards the land, or at least it seemed that way to Eladlín. He watched it as it crawled into view, growing clearer with each passing second...  
  
"Eladlín!" yelled Siriondil, pulling him out of his reverie, "Swing her port!"  
  
He scrambled onto the ladder and tugged the rope, but it would not come loose.  
  
"Swing her! What are you waiting for?"  
  
"It will not loosen!" cried Eladlín, "I cannot budge it!"  
  
Siriondil handed his work over to another sailor and leapt over the deck. If the boat refused to move, they would be in a fair amount of trouble. He shoved Eladlín out of the way rather roughly and grabbed the line. When it would not come loose for him, he unsheathed his light hunting knife and cut the rope free, thus lowering the main sail and allowing the boat to turn. He jumped down and heaved a great sigh. That had been far closer than he had ever wished to be. He looked over at Eladlín, who cowered in a corner. "What is it, my young friend?"  
  
The boy's eyes widened upon being addressed, and he made no sign of replying.  
  
Siriondil thought for a minute, and realized he had probably hit the boy hard in his attempt to free the cord. "I am sorry, little master. I did not mean to strike you, but I had to cut the line, or our ship would have collided with the rocks and splintered."  
  
Again the boy did not speak and nursed his sore arm. He had never been hit before, and he did not know how to react.  
  
Siriondil sheathed his knife next to his hip and held out his hand. "Come here, Eladlín."  
  
Eladlín hestitated, unsure of whether or not he should trust Siriondil.  
  
Siriondil made the choice for him and walked over to him. "I truly am sorry. Are you injured?" He took the boy's arm and looked it over carefully.  
  
"It does not hurt." said Eladlín, hiding a slight grimace.  
  
"Aye, well you shall have a fair bruise there by sundown, but there is naught we can do about that."  
  
"Siriondil! She's lagging again!" called a voice. He straightened at once. "Go to your cabin and ready your things. There are matters I must attend to before we can land safely." He ran away again and hurled himself onto the ropes to straighten his ship.  
  
Eladlín entered the cabin and packed his few belongings away. The pain in his arm subsided gradually, and he emerged onto the deck feeling significantly better. The shore approached rapidly, and he could see the outlines of men readying the harbor for their arrival.  
  
"Ahoy!" called Siriondil from the top of the railing.  
  
"Ahoy! Where do you need to harbor her?"  
  
"She's bigger than she looks. Can you ready the farthest dock for her?"  
  
"Aye! Bring her in!" answered the fair voice.  
  
Eladlín walked to the front of the ship, for he greatly desired to see the people of the bay. He was overshadowed by a figure, and he glanced up to find Siriondil standing next to him. He relaxed for a moment, but then Siriondil placed his arm on his shoulder, startling him. He jumped slightly, but Siriondil pulled him tighter against him, and Eladlín snuggled close to his hip, eager for the attention and love. But as quickly as it happened, Siriondil left again to help moor the ship. Eladlín watched him with awe. It was the first sign of affection he had ever seen from Siriondil, for he was normally very reserved. He turned around to watch the men as they slid into focus, and suddenly he realized something. These were not men....they were...they were...  
  
"Elves..." breathed Beran, "We have landed among the elves." He climbed carefully down the cords leading up to the crow's nest. The ship was moored securely and the sailors stood staring, unsure of the people before them. Beran slowly made his way to the front and looked up to the port master. "What deviltry is this?" he breathed, "This is the seaport of Edhellond. There should be none of your sort here, 'tis a men's harbor, or at least 'twas when I last laid eyes upon it. What have you done to our people?"  
  
The elf laughed and his voice was fair and high, "We have done naught to your people, old man. They ran away of their own accord, so great was their fear of the elves."  
  
"You lie." started Beran, fury rising on his tongue.  
  
"I assure you I do not, old man. Go to the hills if you wish to find them. But where have you come from? Ships like this are not built in this land."  
  
"Why do you want to know, elf?" replied Beran  
  
Eladlín had watched the entire scene from behind Siriondil. These elves, they were so beautiful. His books couldn't even begin to describe them. Their long golden hair flowed over their shoulders, almost hiding the intricate weaving of their tunics. Their eyes shown a blazing blue, but Eladlín feared that was out of their anger with Beran. Eager to avoid a problem, he stepped forward. Siriondil made a grab for him, but missed and he walked straight up to the feet of the nearest elf. "You have no need for them here, for you have not traversed the seas. We hail from Numenor, land of Lord Elros."  
  
The elf's expression softened at the sight of the young child. "Numenor.'tis a story we tell to our children. It is of a people who left Middle-Earth for a better life. Surely you have found it there over the great seas? Why have you come back?"  
  
"To see the elves, and to trade with our kin."  
  
The elf bent down and looked Eladlín in the eye. "Well, now that you have seen an elf, what do you think?"  
  
Eladlín reached out to touch him, but Siriondil leapt forward and pressed his knife to the elf's throat. "You will not lay a hand on that boy. Unless your name is Elrond, he is none of your concern."  
  
Eladlín yelled, "No, Siriondil! He means well! Do not hurt him, I beg you."  
  
Siriondil glanced back at the boy, and found tears welling in his eyes. "Please." he asked. Sighing gently he removed the knife from the elf and sheathed it. He could not ignore Eladlín's request.  
  
"Why do you have such a great mistrust of our people? The lad is right, I mean no harm." asked the elf as he stood rubbing his neck.  
  
"You are full of magic, or so I have been told."  
  
"Your parents have mislead you, though I trust it is not their fault. I hold no magic in my grasp, simply a soft hand with a horse and a fair voice. Now, what may I do for you and your companions? We have a fine kitchen and ample room if you have need of an inn."  
  
"What is your name?" interrupted Eladlín.  
  
"Have I forgotten to introduce myself?" Eladlín nodded, "I am sorry. My name is Mararion. And you are...?"  
  
"Eladlín. And this is Siriondil."  
  
"Pleased to make your acquaintance." said Mararion with a rather bemused smile. "Now come follow me and we will provide you with lodging for the night."  
  
End of chapter 4  
  
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	5. Chapter 5: Blind is the Faith of a Child

Chapter 5 Blind is the faith of a child  
  
  
  
  
  
Eladlín nearly skipped down the deck he was so excited. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for Siriondil. His trust was something he held close to his heart; he did not give it away like a simple token.  
  
"Hurry, Siriondil!" called Eladlín.  
  
"Hurry yourself." Eladlín spun around, but Siriondil grinned and Eladlín realized that he was only joking. He waited rather impatiently for Siriondil to catch up to him and trotted alongside him. Mararion directed them through the labyrinth of streets and buildings, and finally stopped before a small inn. "This is where the men of old housed their travelers, and we have maintained it well. You may rest here for as long as you desire."  
  
"Thank you Mararion." replied Eladlín. A faint smile appeared upon the face of the elf.  
  
"If you will allow it, I would like to invite the young lad to dine with us in the great hall tonight." said Mararion.  
  
Siriondil glanced down at Eladlín, who tugged his tunic gently. "Can I go?" he whispered.  
  
"If I may join him." replied Siriondil.  
  
"Of course. I must inform the chefs and attend to other matters, but I will come to collect you when it is time." He turned away and ran lightly down a side alley.  
  
"Look!" exclaimed Siriondil, "He left no footprints in the dust."  
  
  
  
  
  
"'Tis the mark of an elf." replied Eladlín, "They leave no mark, for their steps are too light."  
  
"How do you know this?"  
  
  
  
"I have read it in Mama's book."  
  
Siriondil gave him a strange look. "Well, come along, we must ready the inn for the rest of the men." He turned around and pushed open the old oaken door. True to his word, Mararion's inn was a work of breathless beauty. The entire building was crafted of wood, save the slate fireplace. Yet even that was carved with intricate runes of Elvish origin. Siriondil exhaled slowly. "Perhaps there is no need to ready it after all..." The men built what proved to be a blazing fire, and most of them had already settled into one of the rooms. Siriondil took care to give Eladlín the largest room and took a small one for himself.  
  
"Why is mine so much bigger?" asked Eladlín as he settled himself on Siriondil's bed.  
  
"You are the prince of Numenor, my young friend. You shall never be of want."  
  
"So? You are a captain, and I can barely complete a sea chart."  
  
"You will understand one day Eladlín." The boy made a motion to speak, but Siriondil interrupted him, "Not now lad. It is not my place to tell you. Inform the men that I desire to speak with them after dinner."  
  
Eladlín sighed gently and went downstairs to find Beran and the other men deep in conversation.  
  
"There is something wrong here!" said Surin, one of the younger sailors, "We must find our kin! The heathens have probably ravaged their bodies, but we must save what is left of their memory."  
  
"Aye!" echoed Beran.  
  
"Hush!" whispered Surin, "We do not know who else may be listening. They are full of magic. I fear they may among us now, though we do not know it." The men eyed each other suspiciously.  
  
"You speak an untruth, Surin," said Eladlín, choosing to break into the conversation.  
  
"Quiet, little master. Do not speak of that which you do not understand."  
  
"They are not a bad people! They mean well."  
  
"You are simply naïve, little master. You will learn one day."  
  
"No!"  
  
Surin wheeled around, stunned that the boy would have so little respect. Eladlín continued slowly, "I understand now. It is you who is in the wrong."  
  
"No." interrupted Siriondil as he walked down the stairs, "You are both in the wrong, for fellow sailors do not argue with one another. Apologize, and keep your views to yourself. I will take no more of this talk. Surin, I will speak with you and the other men after dinner. Eladlín, come with me now. We must meet Mararion." The two fumbled an apology, though neither meant it, and Siriondil steered Eladlín out the door. "You must learn to control your temper, my young friend."  
  
"But you heard what he said! He insulted them!"  
  
"It matters not, Eladlín. You must learn to respect your elders, and hold your tongue. It was unwise to offend Surin so, and rather unkind of you."  
  
Eladlín hung his head slightly. Siriondil had never uttered such harsh words. "I am sorry, Siriondil."  
  
"Do not apologize, just take it as a lesson learned. You are not grown yet, and I will not hold it against you."  
  
Eladlín still smarted from the reprimand, and he sat down on the stair without speaking a word; an unusual feat, to say the least.  
  
"Never hang your head, my lad." Still, Eladlín refused to heed his word. "Here now, I have something to give to you." Siriondil sat down next to Eladlín. He held something in his hands, and showed it to Eladlín with a gentle gleam in his eye.  
  
"What is it?" marveled the young boy. He had never seen such intricate painting, and that animal in the middle...  
  
"'Tis a dragon fang. My father chanced upon it in the woods one day when he was a small boy in these lands. The runes around the side are of dwarfish origin, and the creature in the middle is a dragon."  
  
"A dray-gone?"  
  
"Drag-on. There are very few of them left now, but a long time ago they held these lands as their own. They have sharp teeth, like this, and they can breathe fire."  
  
"Fire?"  
  
"Yes. And their skin is made of scales-do you see the tiny patterns? -which protect them from almost everything. It is nearly impossible to kill a dragon."  
  
"And this is mine?"  
  
"Yes, my young friend. I want you to have it."  
  
"Thank you!" exclaimed Eladlín, who unable to hide his complete happiness. He threw his arms around Siriondil. A look of surprise overtook Siriondil's face, and he shrugged him off rather quickly, but a roguish smile still crept onto his lips.  
  
Mararion chose this moment to step out into the daylight and face the two friends. His heart had been lightened by their exchange; indeed he felt younger than he had in a hundred years. Such friendships rarely came among elves, never mind men. "Hello there!" he called.  
  
Eladlín looked up from his fang and found Mararion smiling down at him. "Look what Siriondil gave me!" he exclaimed.  
  
Mararion picked it up with an interested air as Eladlín recounted exactly what Siriondil had said. He laughed silently at the boy's words and started to walk down the street. "We must quicken our pace, little chatterbox, or we shall surely be late!"  
  
"Oh! Hurry Siriondil!"  
  
"Must we go through this again?"  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
"This is our hall. It is by no means great, but we have been pressed by other matters." stated Mararion.  
  
"What matters?" asked Eladlín.  
  
"None that concern a little boy."  
  
"I am NOT little." he replied defiantly.  
  
Mararion chuckled. "To an elf, even Siriondil is naught but a babe." Siriondil raised his eyebrows. There was something suspicious in Mararion's voice, but he hid it quickly. "Here, Eladlín, you will sit at the high table with my friend Vinyayáviëiel." The maiden waved jovially at him, and Eladlín rushed over to meet her.  
  
Mararion turned to Siriondil. "Now that the boy is taken care of, we have many things to discuss." He led Siriondil over to another smaller table. The elves here had clearly been instructed to ignore the visitor, for they did not even raise their heads at his arrival. "How do you know of Lord Elrond? Why must the boy meet him?"  
  
"That matter lies between Lord Elros and myself."  
  
"Yet you must find Lord Elrond. And I alone can show you where he resides."  
  
Siriondil growled slightly. "He lives in Lindon. That is all I need to know. I will find him."  
  
"Lindon?"  
  
"You would know it Ossiriand."  
  
"How do you intend to find it?"  
  
"I will ask my kin. They will know the way."  
  
"Indeed!" said Mararion, rather coyly, "Your kin have a great mistrust of our kind. I sense it in you now, and in your fellow mariners. 'Ossiriand' is a land they do not speak of, for it sparks a deep flame of fear within their hearts."  
  
"I will find my way. I do not need your help."  
  
"I will lead you to Elrond, if you will simply tell me the nature of your journey."  
  
"Why are you so interested in him? He is simply a boy."  
  
"That is all he is to you, but to an elf, a boy such as Eladlín is a rarity. We have but few children in our realm, and a child of men who enjoys the company of elves? He is amazing. I enjoy the company of children dearly, though it is not often that I find myself in their presence. I want only to aid you and the boy. You must trust me; there is no other way."  
  
"I will not put him in danger, not while I have strength left."  
  
"He will confide in me, Siriondil. I gave you a chance to trust me, but now I see there is no other way. There is no trust left in the world of men, save in the heart of a child." He rose from the table and called Eladlín.  
  
"Do not call him. I forbid you."  
  
"How will you stop me, dear Siriondil? For I am surrounded by my peers, and you are all alone."  
  
Siriondil unsheathed his knife slowly. "I will protect the child until my last breath is drawn."  
  
Eladlín had stood slowly at Mararion's call, for he enjoyed the maiden's company. "I will return dear Lady." he told her. He walked over towards the elf, but found Siriondil with a dagger drawn, ready to fight. "No Siriondil!" he yelled, running in front of the elf. "You cannot harm him. Please." Siriondil was forced to draw back his dagger, for he had to follow the boy's order.  
  
Mararion grasped the boy's shoulder gently. "Thank you, Eladlín. I want to ask you a question. Will you answer it?"  
  
Siriondil interrupted before Eladlín could answer. "Do not respond Eladlín. Please, I beg of you, it is for your own good."  
  
Eladlín gave Siriondil a puzzled look. "We can trust Mararion." He glanced back, "Of course, I will answer your questions."  
  
Mararion kneeled down. "Thank you. Who are you, my young lad? Who is your father?"  
  
"Why, I am Eladlín, son of Lord Elros, of the kingdom of Numenor."  
  
Siriondil bit his lip. The child's trust knew no bonds. They were already in danger.  
  
"Are you going to see Lord Elrond?"  
  
"Perhaps. Who is he?"  
  
"An elf Lord who resides in the kingdom of Ossiriand. Thank you Eladlín. You may return to Vinyayáviëiel, if you so desire."  
  
"You are welcome." called Eladlín as he ran back to the elf maiden's side.  
  
Mararion faced Siriondil. "So that is why you kept the boy's identity a secret. It was wise of you, for these lands are not safe anymore. I suppose Lord Elros has commanded his son to be brought before his uncle?"  
  
"Yes." replied Siriondil, for he understood that withholding the information was useless.  
  
"I will offer my services as a guide once more. If you will refuse them, then I will not allow you to leave these lands. Even with your protection, the boy would be in far too much danger."  
  
"We will follow you, though it is against my heart to do so."  
  
"You should listen to Eladlín. For all your years, he is still wiser than you are. Elvish advice will not lead you astray."  
  
Siriondil grumbled a response as the food was brought before them. The elves, sensing that Mararion's deed was done, turned their attention to Siriondil. He found himself enjoying their company, for all of them shared his love of the sea. They were a noble people, and they valued nature above all else. This was one area where Siriondil, though he would never admit to it, agreed with the elves. Men were far too careless and inconsiderate for his taste. Yet, for the majority of the dinner, the speech of the elves concerned only the sea. Siriondil could not understand, and finally one elf said, "The passion for the sea has been laid deep within all our hearts. When the years of Middle-Earth begin to wane, it will time for our people to leave these shores. We will travel back to the Halls of the Gods, from whence we came." At long last the courses waned and Siriondil leaned back with a full mind and a satisfied stomach. Such a meal he had not had in a long while. Mararion stood and placed his hand on Siriondil's shoulder. "My people, we have guests of old among us tonight. The men of Numenor have returned! Shall we entertain them?" A chorus of agreement rang through the hall, and Mararion silenced them with a wave of his hand. "Vinyayáviëiel, if you please..."  
  
The elvish maiden blushed softly and rose. "What shall I sing, Mararion?"  
  
"A tale of old."  
  
She thought for a moment, and began the lay of Eärendil:  
  
Eärendil was a mariner  
  
that tarried in Arvernien;  
  
he built a boat of timber felled  
  
in Nimbrethil to journey in;  
  
her sails he wove of silver fair,  
  
of silver were her lanterns made,  
  
her prow was fashioned like a swan,  
  
and light upon her banners laid.  
  
In panoply of ancient kings,  
  
in chained rings he armoured him;  
  
his shining shield was scored with runes  
  
to ward all wounds and harm from him;  
  
his bow was made of dragon-horn,  
  
his arrows shorn of ebony,  
  
of silver was his habergeon,  
  
his scabbard of chalcedony;  
  
his sword of steel was valiant,  
  
of adamant his helmet tall,  
  
an eagle-plume upon his crest,  
  
upon his breast an emerald.  
  
Beneath the Moon and under star  
  
he wandered far from northern strands,  
  
bewildered on enchanted ways  
  
beyond the days of mortal lands.  
  
From gnashing of the Narrow Ice  
  
where shadow lies on frozen hills,  
  
from nether heats and burning waste  
  
he turned in haste, and roving still  
  
on starless waters far astray  
  
at last he came to Night of Naught,  
  
and passed, and never sight he saw  
  
of shining shore nor light he sought.  
  
The winds of wrath came driving him,  
  
and blindly in the foam he fled  
  
from west to east and errandless,  
  
unheralded he homeward sped.  
  
There flying Elwing came to him,  
  
and flame was in the darkness lit;  
  
more bright than light of diamond  
  
the fire upon her carcanet.  
  
The Silmaril she bound on him  
  
and crowned him with the living light  
  
and dauntless then with burning brow  
  
he turned his prow; and in the night  
  
from Otherworld beyond the Sea  
  
there strong and free a storm arose,  
  
a wind of power in Tarmenel;  
  
by paths that seldom mortal goes  
  
his boat it bore with biting breath  
  
as might of death across the grey  
  
and long-forsaken seas distressed:  
  
from east to west he passed away.  
  
Through Evernight he back was borne  
  
on black and roaring waves that ran  
  
o'er leagues unlit and foundered shores  
  
that drowned before the Days began,  
  
until he heard on strands of pearl  
  
where ends the world the music long,  
  
where ever-foaming billows roll  
  
the yellow gold and jewels wan.  
  
He saw the Mountain silent rise  
  
where twilight lies upon the knees  
  
of Valinor, and Eldamar  
  
beheld afar beyond the seas.  
  
A wanderer escaped from night  
  
to haven white he came at last,  
  
to Elvenhome the green and fair  
  
where keen the air, where pale as glass  
  
beneath the Hill of Ilmarin  
  
a-glimmer in valley sheer  
  
the lamplit towers of Tirion  
  
are mirrored on the Shadowmere.  
  
He tarried there from errantry,  
  
and melodies they taught to him,  
  
and sages old him marvels told,  
  
and harps of gold they brought to him.  
  
They clothed him then in elven-white,  
  
and seven lights before him sent,  
  
as through the Calacirian  
  
to hidden land forlorn he went.  
  
He came unto the timeless halls  
  
where shining fall the countless years,  
  
and endless reigns the Elder King  
  
in Ilmarin on Mountain sheer;  
  
and words unheard were spoken then  
  
of folk of Men and Elven-kin.  
  
Beyond the world were visions showed  
  
forbid to those that dwell therein.  
  
A ship then new they built for him  
  
of mithril and of elven-glass  
  
with shining prow; no shaven oar  
  
nor sail she bore on silver mast:  
  
the Silmaril as lantern light  
  
and banner bright with living flame  
  
to gleam thereon by Elbereth  
  
herself was set, who thither came  
  
and wings immortal made for him,  
  
and laid on him undying doom,  
  
to sail the shoreless skies and come  
  
behind the Sun and light of Moon.  
  
From Evereven's lofty hills  
  
where softly silver fountains fall  
  
his wings him bore, a wandering light,  
  
beyond the mighty Mountain Wall.  
  
From World's End then he turned away,  
  
and yearned again to find afar  
  
his home through shadows journeying,  
  
and burning as an island star  
  
on high above the mists he came,  
  
a distant flame before the Sun,  
  
a wonder ere the waking dawn  
  
where grey the Norland waters run.  
  
And over Middle-earth he passed  
  
and heard at last the weeping sore  
  
of women and of elven-maids  
  
in Elder Days, in years of yore.  
  
But on him mighty doom was laid,  
  
till Moon should fade, an orbéd star  
  
to pass, and tarry never more  
  
on Hither Shores where mortals are;  
  
for ever still a herald on  
  
an errand that should never rest  
  
to bear his shining lamp afar,  
  
the Flammifer of Westernesse.  
  
Her sweet voice faded, and everyone nodded in appreciation. "Of your skills with weapons I have heard, but never could I imagine a voice so beautiful." said Eladlín.  
  
"Thank you." replied Vinyayáviëiel. She admired the young boy, for he was polite, with a charming personality. "Do you like horses?" she asked him.  
  
"I have never seen one, though I have read that they are amazing creatures."  
  
"Indeed they are. Ask your friend if you may accompany me, and I will show you my steed, Mânêl."  
  
"What does Mânêl mean?"  
  
"In the common tongue, Spirit Star."  
  
Siriondil walked over to Eladlín, and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "It is time we retired, my young friend. I still have work to do."  
  
"May we see Mânêl first?"  
  
"Who is that?" asked Siriondil  
  
Vinyayáviëiel interrupted. "'Tis my horse. But it is no matter, I will show him to Eladlín another day."  
  
The boy's face fell slightly, but Siriondil smiled. "If it can be done quickly, I see no reason to stop him from meeting the animal. Lead the way, fair Lady."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
One must always give credit where credit is due. Obviously, the Lay of Eärendil and all my references and maps were created by Tolkien himself (right, Finch? *winks*). He is the one to whom we owe everything. I would also like to thank the websites that have published his materials and made it easier for me to find and organize. The Lay of Eärendil was found at  
  
http://tolkien.cro.net/talesong/earendil.html  
  
It's a wonderful Tolkien resource site. I'd also like to thank  
  
http://www.photovault.com/Link/mithrandir/Maps/beleriand.html  
  
and  
  
http://lotrmaps.cjb.net/  
  
for creating and collecting such wonderful maps of middle-earth. Although I'm still not completely sure I've got it right (hey, it's not easy translating for Lotr to silmarillion mapwise.and its even harder when you can't get 2 places (cough edhellond and lindon cough) on the same map. If anyone thinks I'm completely wrong, please, email me. I actually like being corrected, because then I learn and I know people are reading my story, so really don't hesitate.  
  
Also, all my elvish translations are in Sindarian, except for the occasional Quenya word, but I really don't know Quenya all that well...I also apologize for the serious lack of description, but there was a lot that needed to be said in this chapter. And as for the wait, I apologize again, but homework comes first. And I have a lot of homework...blecch 


	6. Chapter 6: Realization and Beginnings

Chapter 6 Realization and Beginnings

"What does he look like? Is he nice?" asked Eladlín, rather apprehensively.

"You shall see in a moment." replied Vinyayáviëiel. She swung the oaken doors of the stable open and stepped inside. The feeble light of the stable did not provide a good view of a black horse, so Vinyayáviëiel led him outside. He snorted nervously and skirted away from the strangers. She laid a calming touch on his shoulder and he relaxed. Eladlín stepped forward tentatively and stroked his nose. The horse snorted again and moved away for a moment, staring curiously at the boy. He leaned in slowly and breathed heavily into Eladlín's hair, making him giggle in delight. The horse watched him for a moment and then ruffled his hair with his snout, showing his gentle way of acceptance. Reassured by the boy's success, Siriondil stepped forward. As he laid his hand upon the horse's back, it jumped back in alarm and stamped. Siriondil shook his head slowly. 

"I am sorry," Vinyayáviëiel apologized, "He will not take to you."

"It is of little importance," he replied, though internally the rejection of the beast stung him deeply. He had kept a dog as a small boy, and animals had always held a special place in his heart. He rubbed his hands together firmly and muttered to himself. 

Vinyayáviëiel gave him a curious look. "Hold out your hands." she told him. He did so obediently, and her laugh rang clear.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Your hands, they are coarse from your work as a mariner! That is why the horse shrudders at your touch. He does not like roughness." Behind her the stallion bobbed his head slowly, as if agreeing with the elf. As the knowledge passed through Siriondil's mind, a smile grew on his face. "But do not worry," she continued, "for few Elvish horses are as fastidious as my friend."

By now Eladlín's yearning for the horses and been satisfied, and Vinyayáviëiel lead them back to the inn. "If you have need of anything, simply ask."

"Thank you for your kindness." they replied in unison. She simply smiled again and strode off into the growing night.

As they stepped into the building, Eladlín yawned softly. Siriondil looked down at him, "Off to bed with you. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow." The boy nodded quietly, he was too tired to make a fuss. He thumped up the stairs and slid between the covers of his bed. He did not fall asleep without delay though, for he missed the calming rocking of the waves. 

Meanwhile, Siriondil attempted to quiet the men, who, it seemed, had found a rather large barrel of mead. Surin held up a tankard and slurred, "Come and join us, Siriondil! You have missed the party of a lifetime!" He cackled gleefully, but Siriondil frowned.

"We have business to attend!" he nearly shouted, "And you are drinking mead? The success of our journey lies upon these matters!" This had the effect of sobering the men extremely quickly. Surin's tankard dropped to the floor with a large clunk and rolled away. "Sorry….." he mumbled.

"Much better," he replied, though the tone of his voice showed his displeasure. "Tomorrow morning an two elves will arrive at the door of the inn. I expect you all to be awake and," his eyes lingered on the empty barrel, "sober. One elf will lead you to the mountains where you will find our kin."

"Will you not accompany us?" asked Beran, the old seamaster.

"I have my own quest to complete. I do not know if I shall see you again."

"And what of Eladlín?"

"He will follow me. It is his journey as much as it is mine."

"And if you are not here when we return? What then? You cannot desert you crew." said Surin.

"Beran has captained many ships in his time. He will lead you back to Numenor. If I have not returned by the close of the year, I ask you to leave without me."

"Have you lost your sense Siriondil? Have you made alliances with these" Beran's face contorted in a fit of hatred, "elves?"

"I know full well the risks I take. But you must know this. If I do not return, you must tell Lord Elros had Eladlín has found his place in the world. And I have gone with him."

If any of the sailors found this strange, they did not voice their opinions. Siriondil continued slowly. "You will clean this room before you sleep. They do not deserve this in return for their kind hospitality." He turned and left the room without a word. More silence followed his departure, and the men cleaned the room quietly before finding their own beds.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning Siriondil rose with the sun and stepped slowly out of bed. He yawned and crept into Eladlín's room to check on him. He slept peacefully, though Siriondil knew his sleep had not come easily. The passion for the sea burned deep within both their hearts. Leaving him to rest a bit longer, he walked down the stairs, where he found most of the men packed and ready to depart. He smiled his thanks and prepared a small breakfast for himself. Within a few minutes the rest of the men had assembled. He cleared his throat, and they looked to him for guidance. "I thank you for trusting me. I know these elves mean well, even if their ways are different. Do not fear them, and they will treat you will kindness. Surin, you have the lists?"

"Yes. I know what we are to trade for."

"Good. Stick as close to it as you can. Do not be afraid to visit your families, but I ask you not to tarry overlong there. You must depart by the start of the New Year."

A knock on the door told them the elves had arrived. Siriondil opened it to find Mararion and another elf he did not recognize. Mararion introduced him as Imladrandir*. He spoke with a soft tongue. "Come, follow me. I shall lead through the mountains." His eyes held a gentle gleam. Suddenly, they were not afraid. Such an elf did not warrant fear. They picked up their packs and followed him through the doorway and out of town. Beran was the last in the long line, and it was him that stopped and turned back. "Goodbye, my captain!"

"Farewell, Beran!"

"Namaarie!" called Mararion. Beran did not reply, instead he struck up a familiar tune and followed the others.

"Namaarie?" asked Siriondil. 

"It means farewell in the language of my kin."

A few small thumps told them that Eladlín was awake. They turned around to watch him walk down the stairs. "'Lo." he muttered sleepily.

"Are you ready?" asked Siriondil.

"For what?"

"Today we leave this village to meet my elven kin. You shall see Lord Elrond before the month has waned."

Eladlín perked up quickly. "We are leaving? Today?"

"Yes. It is a long journey, and the others have also begun their trek."

"Do you mean Beran and the other sailors?"

Siriondil nodded. "As soon as you have eaten, we must depart." Eladlín ate a fast breakfast and went upstairs to pack his things. Within a half-hour he was ready to leave, except for one small problem. His rucksack was bigger than he was. Siriondil laughed in spite of himself. "I am sure Mararion will help you with this." As if on cue, the elf stepped back into the inn.

"Are we ready?"

"I believe so."

"Good. Follow me." He led them out into a small courtyard where four horses stood nervously. Siriondil looked at them skeptically. "They have no harness….." he muttered.

Mararion heard him, and shook his head slowly. "I forget that you do not know our ways. They are Elvish horses, they will bear no harness." He lifted Eladlín onto a red roan, and loaded his pack onto a grey mare. Siriondil chose the bay mare. He placed his hand on her withers and leapt on. Five seconds later, he landed with a dull thud on the other side of the horse. Eladlín screeched with delight. Siriondil got up and rubbed his back gently. He already knew that horses would not be his favorite method of travel. Mararion lead the chestnut stallion over to him, and showed him how to mount correctly. "Swing your leg up and balance yourself. But do not jump too forcefully, or you will fly right over her back. As I am sure you have already learned."

"Funny. Real witty." replied Siriondil as he righted himself on the horse. Eladlín placed a small hand on the horse's shoulders. It responded to his touch and strode over towards the others.

"You have a good hand with a horse," noted Mararion.

"It seems as though he knows what I want him to do." 

"You tell him with your touch, and a gentle squeeze with your knees. Never kick him, or he will rear in anger."

Eladlín nodded slowly. "What is his name?" he asked. 

"He is a gelding, and his name is Caranaur."

"Caranaur….." the boy repeated, feeling it over with his tongue. "What does that mean?"

"Red-flame. He is a fiery young horse."

"What about this one?" asked Siriondil.

"Tossgalenas. Maple-leaf. They are her favorite. The others are Mithôl, Grey-dream, and this is Midheiliant, Dew-rainbow." He told them, motioning to the packhorse and his own mount.

"And what is our path?" asked Eladlín.

"So many questions! Lindon is to the north, near the Bay of Balar and the Blue Mountains. We must follow the River Morthond over the White Mountains, were we shall find the North-South Road. It will lead us through the Horse Plains and into the Fields of Farthing. From there we must cross three more rivers to arrive at the Grey Havens, the largest seaport in all of Middle-Earth."

"It is a long journey, then."

"Yes, but it is one I have made many times before, so worry not. I know where to go." With this he lead them out of Edhellond at a slow walk. "Can you travel any faster?" he asked them.

"This is a good pace for today." replied Siriondil, "Let us learn our way around these new beasts."

They followed the winding river of Morthond through countless grassy knolls and a deep-forested valley. It was here that they stopped for the night. Mararion found a small cave near the churning water, and he lead the horses out for a drink while Siriondil and Eladlín rested.

"Riding is hard work." said Eladlín, "I did not realize it would make me so sore."

"Nor did I." admitted Siriondil.

"It is so beautiful here though. I think it will be worth the journey."

Siriondil rolled onto his side and looked at Eladlín. "Did your father ever tell you why we are journeying to Lindon and Lord Elrond?"

"No. Why?"

"Never mind, for it is not my place to tell you. I am sure it will be explained when we arrive in Lindon."

"Ossiriand." interrupted Mararion. "Speak of it by its proper name." He dumped a large amount of wood on the ground and started a small fire. He gave them each a small wafer.

"What is this?" asked Eladlín. 

"Lembas, or Elvish waybread. One wafer is enough to fill a stomach for a day." They ate it quickly, without slowing to savor the sweet flavor, for their hunger was great after a day of travels. Mararion smiled as he watched them eat. It reminded him of the days when he had been a young lad. Now he was accustomed to the toils of travel, and the hunger did not bite as sharply. "You may sleep under the rock face. I will keep a watch, though one is not truly needed within the borders of our land."

Siriondil gave him a strange look. "But surely you will tire! You cannot go without sleep!"

"I am an elf, Siriondil, I can go without many things. But I have no need of rest tonight, for my heart is too wary."

"Why is that?" asked Eladlín, "Do you feel something coming? I do."

"You are a strange child Eladlín. What do you feel?"

"Darkness. It grows steadily nearer."

Mararion's face was grim. "That is an elvish trait, it is unusual that you possess it. Yes, evil is creeping back into the world. The fortress at Angband was destroyed, but its peoples were not. They grow ever stronger. But we shall tarry not on such thoughts. Sleep in peace, we are safe tonight."

Eladlín followed Mararion's command and fell asleep almost instantly. He shivered in his slumber as a weak sea breeze passed through the land and Siriondil covered him with his cloak. The boy snuggled against it and snored serenely. Yet Siriondil could not be comforted. He missed his crew and ship, and he did not take Mararion's warning lightly. He laid down on his back and before long a melancholy tune reached his ears. He sat up slowly, but the elf paid no heed. He sang to the river and his back was to the others. This tune was clearly sorrowful in nature, but Siriondil did not understand the words. Mararion sang solely in Elvish. Yet it was a strange tongue, and the sounds were different from the language he had heard in Edhellond. After a few minutes his voice quieted and Siriondil asked him, "Of what did you sing?" Mararion turned quickly, and Siriondil saw that his face was streaked with tears. 

"No matter that concerns a man. Besides, if I translated it for you, you would only mistrust my kind all the more."

"My views are swiftly changing Mararion. Please tell me the song."

Mararion sighed softly and began, "It was sung in Quenya, that is, the high language of the elves of old. It is seldom heard in these lands; it comes from another land, the land of the Valar." Siriondil nodded to show that he understood and Mararion continued, "It tells a part of the history of the Simarils. Do you know what they are?"

"I have heard they were jewels of great beauty."

Mararion nodded. "Their beauty was too great. They were….." he sighed again, "I cannot describe them. I will simply recount the tale.

Tales of sorrow and tales of pain

Abound in the land from whence we came.

The Silmarils were his greatest work

They haunted his mind, consumed his soul.

Wherever he lay the Simarils also lurked.

But Melkor deceived him and all was lost.

As he held his dying father close to his chest

A violent anger rose in his breast.

In haste he swore an oath unwise

Against his protector, dear Manwe.

In anger he led the Noldori

To the shores of Alqualondë.

There the boats of the Teleri were laid

Swaying gently in the morning breeze.

Feanor raised his sword against the peaceful people.

And the sea that day turned red.

A thousand voices cried out in pain

As the people of the Teleri died in vain.

Sisters were lost, Fathers were killed,

at the hands of an elf most bitter.

And his actions that day proved to Manwe

There was no love left in his heart,

Save for his Simarils 

And a message came down from on high.

Warning against their escape.

"You shall never return,

To these lands of old,

'Less you turn back now."

Yet Feanor in his fury threw the message aside

and climbed upon the greatest ship

"Away to the fires of Melkor", he called

"We go to steal back our treasure!"

That was the last our people saw of the Teleri

'Tis a sight that still haunts my eyes

Our cousins, our brothers,

Laying dead for a simple gem.

The Oath of Feanor 

'Tis a mark of shame.

I am ashamed of my heritage

I wish not to give my name.

Leave me be, let me grieve in peace

One day the sun will rise again

This must have been a dream."

He turned away again and looked to the river. "That is the story of my people, but I ask you not to judge me by Feanor's acts. I am not of royal blood, I had no say."

"That is a story of great sorrow. I am sorry for your pain."

Mararion looked skyward. "I suppose it would not have completely unraveled, if my family was not lost."

"They were killed?"

"Later in the voyage our boats struck the great glaciers and splintered. On the long walk that followed, many perished. My kin were among them."

Siriondil thought quietly to himself. What would it feel like to lose your whole world in an instant? He could not imagine.

"I am sorry I told you of such matters. Please, sleep. You need the rest." added Mararion.

Siriondil turned to his side and closed his eyes, but the drowsiness did not come to his mind for a long time. When Mararion heard his breathing slow, he tended to the horses, but even they could tell his heart was distant.

*Literally translated as "valley-wanderer"

Alright, I have a few notes. One, sorry about the lack of Eladlín in this chapter. As it turned out, it was more of finding for Siriondil, who wrestled with my muse and just took over. Eladlín will return as the main character in the next chapter, I promise. I also apologize for the rather, er, sorrowful nature of this chapter. I wanted to include a little of the history of the elves for Siriondil's benefit, and since Mararion is of the Noldor, his past pretty much bites. I also included the translation of Mararion's Song of the Noldori. I created it myself, which explains the crappy nature of the poetry. Eh, I try. For those of you who have read my other Lotr story (and I doubt that's many of you, because it isn't very good…anyways) the Vinyayáviëiel in this story and that story are two different people. I'm just reusing the name because I like it (Well, it IS my name in elvish, so how can I not like it?) 


	7. Chapter 7: The Last Fields of Lamedon

Chapter 7 The Last Fields of Lamedon  
  
The next morning Siriondil was slow to rise. He was extremely sore, and his sleep had not come easily. The same cannot be said for Eladlín however, for young boys take to mornings with an almost unhealthy exuberance. "When do we leave?" he questioned fiercely, "When will we arrive? Oh, I cannot wait!"  
  
"Patience is a virtue, little master." replied Siriondil.  
  
Eladlín held his tongue, for Siriondil's words were always to be heeded. Mararion smiled gently. The young lad's words brought peace back to his heart. "Once we have finished eating, we will begin the day. We should arrive at the foot of the White Mountains by this evening. Do you have heavy cloaks?"  
  
Siriondil shook his head. "Such garments are not needed for a sea voyage."  
  
"You may wear mine." He looked down at Eladlín, who was busy munching at his lembas, "They shall be too big for Eladlín, but the more material he has on him, the warmer he will be."  
  
"But what about you Mararion?" questioned Eladlín, "What will you wear?"  
  
"Elves do not feel cold, unless it comes from the lifeless stone. I will be fine." He mounted Midheiliant and motioned to the others. "Come, we have a long day ahead of us."  
  
Caranaur strode over to Eladlín, who mounted him gracefully. Siriondil leapt upon Tossgalenas without falling off (a rare event, to be sure), and Mithôl found her way behind the others. Tired of the slow pace Siriondil had set yesterday, Mararion nudged Midheiliant into a swift trot, and the other horses followed suit. Siriondil held onto Tossgalenas' mane as he was rocked about her back. This was going to be a long day.  
  
A few minutes later, Eladlín broke the heavy silence. "Will you tell us a tale Mararion?"  
  
"What do you mean by that?"  
  
"My Mama told me one every day. I miss them so."  
  
"Hmm..." sighed the elf, "I believe I know one that you would like. It is called the Last Elf, and it is set many years from now." He cleared his throat and began, "I am called the Last Elf by those who know only of my legend, and the Piper by my friends of old. Few now know the truth of my heritage, but here I shall reveal it. I am Sindarian by birth; a grey elf who has not yet seen the light of Valinor. I sit by the shore each day, for the passion for the sea lies deep within my heart. It is surpassed only by my love of Middle-Earth. Occasionally I will bring my pipes to my wet lips and play a sweet tune to please the waters. Many have asked me why I do not wander from my place by the sea, but they do not understand. I wish only to learn the ways of the world, and one day the sea, in a fit of joyful glee, will reveal it to me. It has said so many times, though never has my song roused it enough to speak freely. Yet one particular day I rose from my dwelling beneath the dunes to find my pipes missing. I mourned them dearly, for in my isolation they had become my dearest friends. Many months I spent in sorrow, for it was only by music that I was allowed to speak to the sea. Over those months I found the sorrow turn gradually to anger. Someone had stolen my pipes! To spite and anger me, someone had taken my speech and cast it into the woods. Each morning I rose with fury in my mind, and every night I settled with hate on my breath. The sea grew distant; for it seemed fearful of my rage. Yet I took no heed, for my mind was bent on my music. Once, in my travels, I chanced upon an old man. I demanded that my instrument be returned. In terror the man fled, and I pursued him to his village gates. There I sulked until nightfall when I vowed to find the man and force my pipes from his grasp. As I entered the village I spied a small boy who hooted like an old screech owl. My gaze softened and I spoke to him. 'Why do you hoot as an owl does? Why do you not speak the tongue of your own people?' He smiled and replied, 'But I do speak the language of men! I was only playing the flute I found one morning upon the seashore.' He held out his hands and there were my pipes! I snatched them from the boy and snarled, 'So it was you that took them from my cave!' The boy gasped, 'It is your flute? I did not know! I was hunting for seashells and I found them on the sand. I thought their owner had abandoned them.' He wrung his hands together and looked at me again, 'I am sorry for the wrong I have caused you. I meant no harm.' The boy spoke with truth in his heart and I could not find the words to fuel my anger. All those restless nights, and my tongue now failed me! I simply turned in the direction of my home without a word. The next morning I rose with the sun and blew gently through the pipes. But the seas tossed angrily and would not speak. This continued for many weeks, but finally I played a song beautiful enough to calm it. 'Why are you so cross with me?' I asked. In a loud roar the waves crashed violently upon the shore, but I discerned these soft words, 'We shall not tell you the truth of the world, not for many a year! In your anger you have forgotten that it is not the pipes that roused us, but your gentle spirit and your love of life.' With this they silenced, and I have not heard them since. Though countless years have passed and my kin have left these shores, I remain still. Perhaps one day I will regain my youthful spirit and the seas will be pleased again. I may only hope."  
  
Eladlín spoke quietly. "Why did he not apologize? Would that have calmed the seas?"  
  
"I do not know, but it is obvious that you are wiser than the old elf."  
  
"What lesson is to be learned from the tale Eladlín?" asked Siriondil suddenly.  
  
"I believe Mararion is trying to tell us that while we may grieve, we should not seek revenge."  
  
"Aye, and what else?"  
  
"I do not know." he replied truthfully.  
  
"Never let your anger overpower your emotions. Consider the words of your mind before you act on your heart. It will not always lead you right."  
  
"Aye." replied the boy. They entered a large plain devoid of trees and paths, and Eladlín felt an urge to run. Nudging Caranaur gently he lead him out beside the others. The horse understood the lad's desire, for he felt it as well. His stride lengthened quickly and soon the others were far behind. "Faster!" whispered the young boy. He took great delight in this feeling, with the wind rushing through his hair and the pounding hoof beats beneath him. The horse responded and they galloped across the field blurring into one being, even to Elvish sight. Mararion glanced back at Siriondil, who gulped audibly. "I, well, I will stay with Mithôl." he muttered. Mithôl shook her head slowly and Mararion grinned. "Suit yourself." he told him. He placed his hand on Midheiliant's neck and the horse shuddered and leapt off into the grassy expanse. Yet they could not catch Eladlín for his horse was light on his feet and, with only a small boy on his back, was not slowed in the least. Out of the corner of his eye, Mararion saw a spec of blackness on the horizon. It was not right, it was too unnatural.  
  
"Eladlín!" he yelled. The boy's horse wheeled and pawed at the air. "Quickly! On the ground and do not make a sound!" Eladlín sensed Mararion's fear and did as he was told. Caranaur attempted to stand guard over him, but the shadow lit a fear deep in his heart, and he fled to the protection of the woods. The elf urged his horse on towards the spot where the boy lay, but he feared he was too late. The orcs would reach him first. "Hide!" he yelled. The boy scrambled for cover, but there was nowhere to hide in the plains. Mararion pushed Midheiliant to his limit, but the stallion's endurance was waning. Without warning, the orcs suddenly turned back and took flight into the woods. Something had frightened them, but he did not know what. Mararion slid off his mount and ran the rest of the distance to Eladlín. He cowered under a small bush, shaking for all his might. Mararion scooped the small boy up in his arms as the first sobs came. "Hush," he whispered, "They have left. You are safe." But Eladlín could not be comforted. Siriondil approached them at a run, having left his horse a ways back.  
  
"Is he hurt?" he asked.  
  
"No, simply scared." The boy's sobs quieted somewhat and he lifted his tear-stained face to Siriondil. He held out his hands and the man took the boy into his embrace. Mararion stood slowly and dusted himself off.  
  
"I am sorry." he told them, "I should have been paying attention, but I allowed my mind to drift."  
  
"It is no one's fault, Mararion," replied Siriondil, "There is nothing else you could have done."  
  
"But there is something else I must do."  
  
"What is that?"  
  
"I must rescue Caranaur from the clutches of the orcs. I will not allow him to fall under their grasp."  
  
Siriondil picked up Eladlín gently and cradled him in his arms. "I will see to him."  
  
"Thank you. I will meet you at the south entrance to the field. If I have not returned within a day, turn back. These roads are more perilous than I first feared." By now the other horses had arrived and Eladlín was lifted onto Tossgalenas as Siriondil began the long walk across the field. "Lothron lîn bad n galen a malta." he whispered, "May thy paths be green and the breeze on thy back."  
  
He turned to Midheiliant who shivered underneath his sweat. His sides had stopped heaving, but the white patches of perspiration chilled his bone. Mararion picked up the dried grass and wiped him clean. The horse nudged him lovingly and Mararion slid onto his back. "Come, my tired mellon. Caranaur needs our help." They set off at a slow gallop, disappearing into the horizon.  
  
Meanwhile, Siriondil had reached the south entrance. He lifted Eladlín from the mare's back and she wandered off to graze. By now the sobs had been reduced to sniffles, and Eladlín stood of his own will. Siriondil smiled as he undid Mith(l's pack. "Feel better?" he asked gently.  
  
Eladlín looked up at him, the tears still staining his face. "What happened?" he asked, "Why was I all alone?"  
  
"We came for you, but you were too far ahead of us. In terror, Caranaur fled to the woods. Mararion is searching for him as I speak."  
  
"What were they? I felt so cold."  
  
Siriondil shuddered involuntarily. "They were orcs, a people who were once elves. Taken by Morgoth and mutilated, they no longer resemble their lost kin."  
  
"How do you know this?"  
  
"My father told me of them, long ago. I never believed I would actually see one." Siriondil lifted a cloak from Mith(l's back. "Here, wear this," he said, tossing the heavy cloak to Eladlín, "It will warm you until I can begin a fire and prepare an afternoon meal." Eladlín walked away, as though he intended to help, but Siriondil stopped. "I will see to everything. Just rest. I do not want you wandering out of my sight."  
  
Glad for the direction, Eladlín sat down and watched the wind tease the plains. Mith(l, having tired of grazing wandered over to him and stood guard as he rubbed her grey face. Siriondil watched them for a moment. Slowly Eladlín grew more drowsy until finally he fell asleep. Mith(l settled beside him, watching over the boy as a mother hen protects her chicks. Satisfied that he would not wake, Siriondil walked out into the plain to collect firewood. He returned to find both of them in the same position and Mararion still missing. His brow creased as he frowned. Surely it could not take this long...  
  
Mararion found himself in a rather compromising situation. Caranaur was safe, but injured and unable to move quickly. He had a deep cut that ran along the length of his foreleg. Even though it was safely bandaged and the blood had stopped, Mararion could not leave him. Yet if they stayed much longer the others would be lost and he would be orc-bait. He leaned on an old willow tree, and it bent under his weight. He jumped back surprised. A small squirrel chattered angrily at him and ran away. Laughing softly to himself he turned towards the horses. They stood close to each other, for the chill of night was falling and they missed the warmth of the fire. "I suppose we shall just move slowly then?" The horses nodded in agreement and Mararion mounted Midheiliant. "To the fields my young friends." If they only they could reach the others by morning.  
  
Siriondil woke suddenly and chided himself. He should not have fallen asleep, for there were orcs around! As he tended to the dying embers he found himself missing the soft-spoken elf. Or, at least, sleep. He crept over to Eladlín and held the boy gently. Eladlín, however, seemed oblivious to his presence and snored serenely. Clutching him for warmth, Siriondil's teeth began to chatter. Did the winds of the plains never cease? He heard a low rumble over the fields and snapped to attention. The orcs had begun their crossing. He kicked out the remainder of the flame and crouched down in the darkness that ensued. Hopefully their presence would go unnoticed.  
  
The sun was rising in the east, that much Mararion could tell. Yet even the elf tired. He had rarely gone this long without rest. He dwelled not on it though, for he knew Siriondil felt far worse. Caranaur slowed with each passing step. The orcs had left during the night, that much was certain. He had heard their passage through the forest. But if he did not hurry, the others would depart as well. "Can you hurry?" he asked the horse as he placed a hand on its shoulder. The horse looked up at him and collapsed on the ground in exhaustion. Mararion looked for the end of the forest, but it was not in sight. "I will come back for you, astald-meldir (brave friend)." The horse responded to the Elvish by raising its head slowly. "Once more, Midheiliant. Fly with the wind." The stallion found a strength deep within his heart. He lengthened his stride and lowered his head. His powerful forelegs flashed forward, barely more than a brown blur of movement. Within moments they had reached the tree line and struck out across the great field. "Siriondil!" he shouted, "Eladlín!"  
  
A sandy head looked up from among the brush, followed shortly by the brown one. Both wore grins upon their faces. "Mararion!" replied Eladlín, who looked delighted to see his friend. He started to run to him, but stopped in mid-stride. "Where is Caranaur?" he asked. Eladlín bit his lip. He hoped with all his heart the horse had not passed on. It would be all his fault.  
  
"He lies in the woods resting. We shall rejoin him soon, but first I needed to make sure you had not left."  
  
"It is good that you did. Siriondil was preparing to leave for the mountains."  
  
"The mountains?"  
  
"I will hold to my word. Lord Elros' wishes will be carried out, even if it is the death of me." replied Siriondil as he loaded the last bag onto Mith(l.  
  
Mararion gave a bemused grin. "Men are quite deaf."  
  
"Aye. We hear only what we want to hear."  
  
"And you have never met Beran!" exclaimed Eladlín. Siriondil laughed again. "The lad has a point."  
  
The three companions strode out across the field leading the remaining three horses. By the end of the day they had rejoined Caranaur, who had recovered much of his strength. Mararion prepared a small fire and Siriondil had already settled for the night. Eladlín munched at his lembas, grimacing from the sweet taste. He missed meat and potatoes dearly. "Potato soup..." he murmured, remembering the taste of Laurelin's famous dish. It was the first clear memory of home that he had had in a long time. As he sat stroking Caranaur, he realized that he did not miss the Old World. Losing his mother would always be a source of great grief, but Papa had always been distant. He had simply not known how to love a small boy. "Besides," Eladlín told himself, "I belong here."  
  
"Indeed you do." replied Mararion.  
  
"How could you hear me?"  
  
"My hearing is strong, and always has been."  
  
Eladlín frowned. What ELSE had he heard? "What do you mean?"  
  
"As to why you belong here?" Eladlín nodded, prompting Mararion to continue. "You have many elvish traits. Too many, if I may comment upon it. You were not meant for a life among men; you were destined for greatness amidst the elves." The lad began to speak, but Mararion silenced him. "Not now. You will understand one day."  
  
"But I wish to know now! I am not a child, I do not need protection."  
  
Mararion rose to his full height, towering over the child. "When your head brushes the leaves, as mine does, then I will consider you grown. Do not concern yourself with your past and future. You have a long life ahead of you. Embrace each moment, and realize what opportunity has given you. In the next month to come, I will lead you through the better part of Middle Earth. No other child has ever been given this opportunity. When I was a small boy, I was confined to my village. I did not leave its gates until much later in life."  
  
Eladlín mulled Mararion's words over silently. Perhaps the elf was right. "Thank you Mararion."  
  
"You will be welcome, if you will do me one favor."  
  
"What is that?"  
  
"Watch the camp for an hour. I am in dire need of rest, but I will wake swiftly if anything is amiss."  
  
"Aye, I can do it."  
  
Mararion settled himself on the ground and within moments his eyes slid out of focus, though they remained open. Eladlín watched him closely, for it was the first time he had ever seen an elf sleep. Once he was sure Mararion would not wake, he crept away and began to climb a tall oak tree. Mith(l snorted her dissent but Eladlín ignored her and continued his ascent. Reaching the top, he settled himself among the highest branches and watched the evening sky. A hawk soared above him and it cried softly as it searched in vain for food. "Hello." Eladlín whispered, afraid of scaring the creature. Instead it concentrated his gaze on him and slowly swooped down, landing gently on an adjoining branch. "Hello." Eladlín repeated. The hawk cocked its reddish head and watched him carefully. He reached out, his fingertips brushing the soft feathers. The bird leapt back in alarm and cried loudly. "Sorry." replied Eladlín, but the hawk took no notice. It began grooming itself carefully, but when it reached the spot Eladlín had touched, it paused and looked up at him. He held out his arm, and the bird flapped over onto him, careful not to scratch him with its sharp talons. Eladlín held out a hand to the hawk and began to pet it. It stood still for a few moments, almost enjoying the attention, before it swept of into the darkening sky. The lad watched it go with a wistful heart. He wished he could soar among the clouds. But to think such thoughts was folly, and Eladlín quickly caught himself. He watched the stars for a few minutes more before sliding down the trunk. Mararion awoke shortly and Eladlín slept, thinking of many things that night.  
  
  
  
  
  
Actually, my little proverb-like tale really does have significance. I swear! It will come into play later on in the story, so don't forget it! (*winks*). lalala list of apologizes this time.hmm.only one! School has been absolute MADNESS, so sorry for the delay. But this is the first day of winter vacation, so another chapter will probably be out by New Year's, but don't quote me on that. Ok, I really have to get started on (yet another) chemistry lab. See you all next chapter! Don't forget to hit the review button! 


	8. Chapter 8: The Chill of the Mountains

Chapter 8 The Chill of the Mountains  
  
  
  
Morning came slowly as the sun inched over the horizon. Mararion roused the others to give them the bad news. Caranaur could travel, but his leg would not bear extra weight.  
  
"What will happen to us?" asked Siriondil.  
  
"Midheiliant is the stronger horse, so he will be able to take Eladlín in addition to myself. But we must travel at the pace Caranaur sets."  
  
"What shall we do when we enter the mountains?" said Eladlín.  
  
"I have friends near the foot of the first peak. They will care for Caranaur and lend us a mountain pony for the pass. When he is ready, he will return to us."  
  
With these words Mararion lifted Eladlín onto the great stallion and leaped up behind him. Siriondil struggled yet again, but Tossgalenas had great patience. When he had finally settled himself the small company set out at a walk. Caranaur held his head high, for he was too proud to wallow in his pain. As they left the great plains behind them, a lone howl rose over the air. Eladlín shuddered. "What was that?" he asked.  
  
"A Warg of the Mountains. I do not understand why it is so far south. 'Tis more than unusual." replied Mararion.  
  
"Should we be worried?" questioned Siriondil.  
  
"No, the howl came from the east and we are heading north. We shall not cross paths."  
  
Suddenly Midheiliant shied violently and Mararion, who sat near the rear of the horse in order to give Eladlín more room, was thrown. He landed quickly and stood. Tossgalenas stumbled backwards and gave a low, nervous whinny. Mararion fitted an arrow to his bowstring and stepped forward cautiously.  
  
"What is..." began Eladlín.  
  
"Silence." Mararion interrupted curtly. He lifted his head to the air and took in a large breath. "Hide." he muttered. Siriondil and Eladlín struggled to find cover behind a small grove of trees. Mararion crouched down in the midst of a thorny bush as his eyes scanned the horizon for movement. A high laugh rose above the plain and an elf stepped out into the clearing. "You have no reason to hide from us, be you man or elf. Show yourself."  
  
Mararion rose and smiled. "'Tis good to see you again, my old friend." He turned to the grove of maples. "Come forward, Eladlín and Siriondil. I know this elf, he will not harm us."  
  
Meanwhile, the dark haired elf and his company had collected their belongings and strode over. Mararion embraced the elf and they stepped back to look at each other. "It has been many moons since our last meeting, Mararion."  
  
"Too many moons, Morinw(."  
  
Morinw( smiled, "Is that how you shall introduce me to your companions? Thelipen!"  
  
Siriondil cleared his throat loudly. He quickly tired of language he did not understand. Mararion turned around to face him. "Siriondil and Eladlín, this is Haldamir Súrion, an old friend of mine. Haldamir, this is Siriondil and Eladlín. Both are men of Numenor."  
  
Haldamir frowned. "I fear this will be a long tale. I shall lead you back to my house near the mountains, for it grows dark and there are strange creatures abroad." Mararion conversed quietly in elvish as he told Haldamir of Caranaur's plight. "Leave him with my companions." replied Haldamir, "They will care for him and bring him to my house. The child should not stay in these woods, not after nightfall."  
  
Eladlín mounted Midheiliant and the company struck out for the looming mountains. They rode at a slow trot, which made conversing easy. "May I ask you a question?" stammered Eladlín.  
  
Haldamir glanced down at the small boy. "Yes, you may. What do you desire of me?"  
  
"Mararion called you Morinw( earlier, and you called him Thelipen. What does that mean?"  
  
Haldamir looked at Mararion, and the two shared the laugh of a deep comradeship. "Morinw( is Dark-fairy, and Thelipen is Mean-one, in the old language; the word of our forefathers. I am of the Noldori race, as is Mararion. We are the remnants of a great people laid to waste. But such tales are not meant for this night." He rode ahead of the others and Eladlín glanced back at Mararion. "What did he mean by that?"  
  
"Lord Elrond will tell you when we arrive in Ossiriand."  
  
Eladlín shook his head gently. He had learned never to expect an answer from Mararion. An hour later Midheiliant slowed as they reached a small stone building with a thin curl of smoke rising from the chimney. As the elves cared for the horses, Siriondil walked over to Eladlín. "How are you?" he asked gently.  
  
"Better." Eladlín replied. "Is this where we shall spend the night? 'Tis awfully small."  
  
"And thou art awfully rude. You know better than to speak like that. Do not belittle the elf, he has given us naught but friendship." reprimanded Siriondil.  
  
Eladlín frowned. There was something different about this elf. Haldamir did not have the same warmth as Mararion. He seemed so much more reserved around everyone. "Something is amiss..." he muttered to himself.  
  
"And what is that, young one?" asked Mararion as he walked up from behind.  
  
Eladlín spun around and silently cursed elvish hearing. "I do not know." he replied, though his gaze rested on Haldamir, who shifted uncomfortably. Mararion, sensing the awkwardness, quickly led them inside. They sat at a small wooden table that had seen many years, yet retained its elegant beauty. Haldamir flashed a grin as he laid out a large ham, potato soup, a small green salad and a jug of fresh milk. "That ought to be enough to settle the stomach of a dwarf!" he exclaimed.  
  
"Apparently you have never seen Master Siriondil eat." replied Eladlín coyly. Haldamir looked down at the small boy, who smiled quietly, and laughed again. "Indeed."  
  
Siriondil laid his head down in his hands. "Thank you Eladlín." The meal continued without incident as Siriondil and Mararion explained their situation. Eladlín stayed silent throughout the meal, as he did not have the courage to speak out again. When the hour grew late, Siriondil excused himself and led Eladlín to a small side room. "Here is where you will spend the night, little master."  
  
"Are you leaving me?" asked Eladlín in a tiny voice.  
  
Siriondil turned around slowly. "Why?"  
  
"I am frightened; I do not want to be alone."  
  
Siriondil smiled. "Worry not, I will return to you before the moon has waned. But first I must speak with Mararion and his friend. If anything is amiss I will be right outside the door. I will come when I hear your call."  
  
Eladlín bit his lip. "Alright." he replied.  
  
Siriondil leaned over to tuck him in. "Losto mae (Sleep well)." he said, remembering the elvish phrase Mararion had taught him.  
  
"Night." He turned onto his side, but sleep did not come. He could hear mutterings from the kitchen, along with the occasional laugh from Haldamir. "Why do I resist him?" thought Eladlín, "Siriondil is right. He has done me no harm, and Mararion trusts him."  
  
A voice stirred in his mind. "The darkness..."  
  
"There IS no darkness. He is an elf of the light, I can see it in his eyes."  
  
"Then why the sorrow?" replied the voice. "Why did he ride away from you?"  
  
Eladlín remained silent. It made no sense to his young mind.  
  
Meanwhile, Mararion finished the tale of Eladlín's journey. "That is why we hasten to bring him to Lord Elrond."  
  
Haldamir stood to bring down a small bottle of ale from the cabinet. "'Tis a strange tale indeed. I know not what to make of these times...The air is changing, but for good or evil I can not tell."  
  
"What of the orcs and Wargs?" asked Siriondil, "Mararion said it was unusual for them to stray so far south."  
  
Haldamir finished pouring the ale into his glass. "It is more than unusual, it is unheard of. Never before has this happened. At least, not in my time. The orcs are looking for something, that much is certain. But what?"  
  
Mararion shook his head grimly. "We may never know. Let us hope that it is not on the orders of Morgoth."  
  
"Do not speak such words in my house!" yelled Haldamir. "It has caused me more grief than I can bear. It is gone, and can never return."  
  
"But Sauron was not killed, Haldamir. You cannot escape it."  
  
Haldamir rose and walked to the door, "We shall dwell no more on these thoughts tonight. Leave me to my sorrows, and speak not of them." He opened the door quietly and ran stumbling to a large rock before his grief overtook him and he wept openly upon it. Eladlín heard the noise and looked out his window. The dark brown hair cascaded over the elf as sobs shook his body. Siriondil opened the door and Eladlín fell back into bed. He walked over to the window and paused for a minute before he lay down upon his own bed. Within minutes sleep embraced him and Eladlín crept cautiously over to the windowsill. He climbed outside and landed with a small thump. Haldamir spun around, his bow fitted and aimed. Seeing the small boy he turned away yet again and looked to the dark sky. Haldamir's tear streaked face moved Eladlín deeply, for he knew it took great sorrow to pain an elf so badly. "What ails you, Haldamir?" he asked quietly.  
  
For a moment silence lingered between the two as Haldamir found the words to respond. "Do you know what war is, Eladlín?"  
  
"Of course. 'Tis a battle between two opposing sides, over land or another matter of pride."  
  
Haldamir looked down at him. "No, Eladlín. It is much more than just a battle. It is death. Death..when your friend lies beside you, bleeding in your arms, when your father is slain and you must carry on, killing those who should be your comrades. That is war, Eladlín. I know, for I have seen far too many of them. Has your father taught you history?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Did he ever tell you how your people came to live on Numenor?"  
  
"No. I asked him many times, but he would not answer."  
  
"It is high time you learned. Dark times are coming to this world, I can feel it. Your people aided mine a long time ago, in Nirnareth Arnoediad, the battle of Unnumbered Tears. Your father was but a babe at the time, though I am sure the memories and tales haunt him to this day. It was through that battle and the ruin of Beleriand that Morgoth was defeated. But, in doing so, many were killed. 'Twas enough bodies to build a mountain, the Hill of Tears. My father and closest friend were lost, for they were among the members of my kin that were murdered in the onslaught. Mararion and myself are of but a handful of our people that remain. All was lost, for that is war Eladlín. Do you understand now?"  
  
"Yes...but why has the darkness avoided Mararion?"  
  
"He did not fight that day. He was a warrior only once, and has since decided to live his life in peace."  
  
"It is a decision I would make again and again, given the chance." said Mararion as he walked out of the house.  
  
"'Tis one I should have made." replied Haldamir.  
  
"Do not dwell on hindsight. Many decisions could have been made differently in the past. Come Eladlín, it is high time you slept. We have a long journey ahead of us tomorrow." The boy left and Mararion continued on to Haldamir.  
  
"I am fading, brother. I feel it in my bones. I will not last the year." said Haldamir quietly.  
  
"Do not speak such nonsense. You will not depart for the halls, I shall see to that. We will leave for the west one day. Together." he added firmly. "The darkness creeps up on you, but it has not taken hold yet. Good years will shake it from your breast."  
  
Haldamir sighed, "You always were the optimistic one. I am afraid I share none of your enthusiasm. I am frightened, Mararion, even the boy can see it."  
  
"He is no normal boy. Eladlín is of half-elven. His actions and thoughts do not resemble those of his forefathers."  
  
"Such ideas I cannot imagine. You must jest with me, Mararion."  
  
"I assure you, I do nothing of the sort. 'Tis why his father has sent him to Lord Elrond. Come join us, I beg you. We shall meet the others in Lindon, and perhaps leave for the West. I cannot guide them alone, the path is more dangerous than I feared."  
  
Haldamir looked towards the waning moon. "The world holds such peacefulness in the night."  
  
Mararion sighed. Haldamir would give no straight answer. "Consider it Haldamir, it is my only request of you. I do not need to lose you as well."  
  
Haldamir began the short walk to the stables. "Your sister was a good wife, Mararion. I will never forget what you have done for me."  
  
Mararion watched him leave, knowing none could console him.  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
"Are we packed then?" asked Eladlín.  
  
"Aye, except for one last thing."  
  
"And what is that? Have we added another pitiful being to our list of companions?" said Siriondil, sensing what was to come.  
  
"Indeed we have."  
  
Eladlín brightened. He understood the darkness now, and fully accepted it. There was no need to fear Haldamir. He would make a fine companion once he settled into their routine.  
  
Haldamir walked into the house; his face masking whatever sorrow lingered in his heart. "The horses are ready. I have only to leave a note for my companions. When Caranaur is healed, they will return him to us. Until then, Niphredil will bear you. Her feet are sound, and she has made the crossing many times. Her name means Snowdrop; a flower of the mountains." he added, foreseeing Eladlín's question.  
  
The soft white mare walked up to Eladlín and blew a slow breath into his face. He looked into her sweet brown eyes and saw naught but a heart of gold. She was a mountain pony. Niphredil had lived her days among the shrubbery until Haldamir took her in as one of his own. After that day she desired only his company; the old life had no hold on her. Eladlín swung a leg over her side and settled himself, marveling at the difference between Niphredil and Caranaur. She had a wider girth and he sat much closer to the ground.  
  
Mararion watched them carefully. The boy took to the horse well, and she responded to his lightest touch. He mounted his own steed and set the pace as they rose on the first path. "Where are we?" asked Eladlín.  
  
"In Blackroot Vale, the easiest pass through the White Mountains. All we need to do is follow the river."  
  
By the end of the first day the air had chilled considerably. Siriondil removed the second cloak from his pack and fastened it around his neck. The soft wool warmed him. He closed his eyes and reveled in the moment. As Niphredil's hooves crunched on the snow, Siriondil was shaken out of his dreams of home. He watched Eladlín struggle by on his pony, shivering and hunched against the cold. Sighing gently Siriondil loosened the reins and caught up to him. "Here." he said, "Take my extra cloak."  
  
Eladlín looked up at him gratefully. "Thank you." Siriondil leaned over and fastened it around his neck. Yet, even with the third cloak over his shoulders, the piercing wing stung right through him. Eladlín shivered quietly, for he was too proud to ask the elves for help. This was also Siriondil's downfall, and he kept to himself as the journey continued.  
  
Mararion and Haldamir, meanwhile, were too engrossed in their own matters to notice the plight of the men. As elves, they did not feel the bitter windchill. As the sun fell slowly from the sky, Niphredil gave a worried whinny, and Mararion pulled up Midheiliant and turned around to face his companions. His gaze shifted onto them and his expression fell. "The cold." he remembered aloud.  
  
"Hmm?" replied Haldamir, as he too swung his horse around. "Oh my." he finished slowly. Both men had reached the point where hypothermia gripped their bodies, making even shivering difficult.  
  
Mararion wet a finger and put it up to the wind. "It is almost too strong for this pass. The cold it must be bitter." He leapt off of Midheiliant and ran to Eladlín, who appeared to be the worse of the two. "Start a fire, Haldamir. Quickly."  
  
"But the trees..."  
  
"Will understand. They will not last long without one." Mararion replied firmly. Haldamir unsheathed a small axe (which he carried to take care of dead wood in the paths) and said a silent prayer as he sliced into the trunk of a young maple. "I am sorry, my friend. Let your sap flow into the hearts of my companions."  
  
Mararion grasped the boy tightly, noticing immediately that he had grown since the journey began. "Soon you will no longer be a child." he whispered into Eladlín's ear. Siriondil had dismounted from Tossgalenas and stumbled over to Mararion. "It is so cold..." he mumbled. Mararion muttered a few commands in elvish and Tossgalenas laid down in the snow. He helped Siriondil against her side where he snuggled close to her girth as he found the heat. A few yards away, Eladlín stirred. Mararion rushed to his side. "Quiet...you must rest. He embraced the boy again, his body straining to give Eladlín his warmth.  
  
Meanwhile, Haldamir struck the first spark with his flint and the maple took to the flames with alarming speed. In seconds a blazing fire roared contentedly. He rushed over to help Mararion take Eladlín and Siriondil to the fireside. As the gravity of the situation lessened, both elves sat and watched the flames, reflecting on what would have happened if Niphredil had not whinnied. "But I still do not understand," said Haldamir slowly, "why the blaze took so quickly. Even by elvish hands such a blaze would normally take hours to create."  
  
"Sometimes it is only chance. We have been very fortunate."  
  
Haldamir sighed, "And what if our luck fails? What then? There are such strange times ahead of us. What will become of the world?"  
  
"Only Iluvatar knows." replied Mararion, quoting the familiar elvish saying.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Ok, I decided to go back on my promise for this chapter. they are only halfway through the mountains, but eight, almost nine pages, is long enough, especially when I have kept you all waiting for so long. thanks so much for all the positive (and especially the critiquing) reviews. Keep 'em coming! Message for reviewers.I want to know what you think of Haldamir. good? bad? eh? What do you think will happen to him? And again, please tell what (if anything) I'm doing wrong! I promise to listen and make revisions! promise! ok, thanks again guys,  
  
~SilverElf~ 


	9. Chapter 9: Strangers in the Mist

Chapter 9 Strangers in the Mist  
  
The next few days passed without incident. However, one morning Mararion roused Eladlín and Siriondil from their slumber before the rising of the sun. Both yawned loudly and Siriondil glanced at Haldamir angrily. "Does the word 'sunrise' mean anything to you?" he questioned.  
  
Haldamir looked back alarmed. "I am sorry to have wronged you Siriondil. We do not need to leave immediately if you would like more sleep."  
  
Mararion rolled his eyes. "Ignore him Haldamir. Siriondil does not cope well with mornings. He should be fine by midday."  
  
"Aye, aye, Captain." mumbled Siriondil as he took his breakfast.  
  
"It would do you well to remember that you are in the presence of elves." said Mararion. Eladlín let out a high laugh, his first sound of the morning.  
  
"He certainly has you there." he remarked.  
  
"Same goes to you." replied the rather aggravated seaman. Eladlín laughed again and the pleasant sound shook even Siriondil out of his mood, although he would never admit to it.  
  
"Quickly, then. We have a long day ahead of us. We should not waste it bickering. Hopefully we can leave the mountains by nightfall."  
  
Eladlín finished his meal quickly and mounted Niphredil. "What a welcome change." he replied. A slow whinny rose over the pass, and Mararion turned quickly. Caranaur stepped slowly over the horizon and waited. The sun followed shortly, illuminating his body in a sea of light. The powerful stallion paused for one glorifying moment before continuing down to his master. Mararion embraced him warmly and the horse shook with excitement.  
  
"N(n h(n teli dan. (My child* returns)" The horse snorted softly and pressed its head into Mararion's chest. "I have missed you as well, mellon."  
  
Eladlín stood with his mouth wide open, in utter disbelief that his companion had returned. Haldamir stepped between man and horse, and before long Eladlín was seated upon his familiar mount. Niphredil had been given the excess baggage and the company began the day's journey. Eladlín quickly adjusted to the new girth size, for he was glad to sit at the same height as the others once again. "Your return is a welcome one, Caranaur." he whispered softly. The horse shook its head gently and released a long breath. It seemed as though he was trying to find words to speak, but horses have never held the common tongue.  
  
"I understand." said Eladlín, in a vain attempt to reassure the horse. Rather than continue, the horse stopped and stamped. Midheiliant wheeled around, her eyes flared in terror. Mararion quickly glanced from horse to horse, watching the river of fear flow through them. "Something is coming. The horses sense it." he told the others.  
  
"Could they have tracked Caranaur?" asked Haldamir.  
  
"'Tis very probable. I am sure the horse did not cover his tracks." Suddenly they heard voices over the horizon. "Away to it, boys! We'll have horsemeat before the setting of the sun." The group banded closer together as they watched the landscape fill with Wargs and orcs. For a few moments they sat, stunned.  
  
"Run!" whispered Haldamir. "We cannot face them, we have a child!"  
  
The horses wheeled around as one and struck out at a hard pace. Within moments the packhorses began to fall behind, burdened by their loads. Haldamir adjusted his own mount and leaned over to free Niphredil and Mithôl. He watched the others continue on, but their path was not his to follow. He slowly spun his mount around. "It is time, my friend. Will you go with me?" The horse bowed her head in a motion of respect, and Haldamir rode head on into the approaching crowd.  
  
Mararion paused for the slightest second as he heard the battle cry sweep over the valley, "Herio! (Charge!)"  
  
"Haldamir..." he mouthed silently. He turned in horror as he watched the orc troop swarm around his friend. Suddenly, a figure appeared in the trail. He was cloaked in a sweeping brown robe. The orcs halted suddenly and snarled at him, but they would advance no further...  
  
"Go back to the shadows. You have no place in the world of living things. Leave."  
  
"Aye!" they cackled mockingly, "And who are you to make such a decree?"  
  
The cloaked figure slowly removed his hood. "I am Radagast the Brown, servant of Yavanna. Now leave, before your dirty blood soils the ground."  
  
The orcs growled menacingly, but to no avail. Radagest did not move from his spot, and they were afraid. The leader turned to his troops. "Let's go boys! There is nothing to be had here!" With this orcs sullenly turned their beasts and rode out. Radagast faced Haldamir, and heaved a great sigh. "It is lucky they listened to me, or we would be in a fair amount of trouble. Quickly, we must leave these mountains. This pass is no longer safe." He whistled softly and a deep bay horse stumbled out of the underbrush. "Come, foolish elf. Follow me."  
  
Haldamir watched in amazement as the old wizard led his horse down the winding path. He had just saved his life. But why? Haldamir had not time to contemplate this, however, for Mararion reached him quickly.  
  
"What were you doing? You could have been killed!"  
  
"I know," replied Haldamir, "But if I had stayed with you, we all would have died."  
  
"Then at least we would have perished together. I have told you before, you cannot leave me. I need your help."  
  
Haldamir gave a small, knowing smile. "The world is always at war. Every challenge is just another battle. One loss will not shape the future."  
  
"And you have fought enough for one day!" called Radagast, "Quickly! I do not jest, this road is troubled."  
  
The two elves left the valley with great haste and returned to the other companions.  
  
"And who are you?" questioned Siriondil.  
  
"Radagast the Brown, servant of the woodlands. And you are...?"  
  
"Siriondil, master mariner, and this is Eladlín, my companion."  
  
Radagast allowed is gaze to linger on the child, who smiled heartily in return. "So you are the child who travels to Lindon."  
  
Siriondil shot Mararion an angry look, "You told him? How dare you betray our trust!"  
  
Eladlín shook his head slowly. "Mararion would not have said anything...he just..."  
  
"Knows." finished Radagast, "I assure you, your elven friends have done you no wrong." He turned to Haldamir. "Have you gone long without rest?"  
  
"We had only been traveling for an hour before the orcs attacked."  
  
"I know of a safe place, but it is many miles from here. If we begin now, we may be able to reach it before the waning of the sun."  
  
"Then what are we waiting for?" asked Mararion as he mounted Midheiliant. Radagast quickly followed, and before long the two were involved in a deep conversation.  
  
"How do we know we can trust him?" questioned Siriondil, "How do we know he is not leading us into a trap?"  
  
Haldamir sighed. "I do not know where he is taking us, but I am certain he will not lead us astray. Truthfully, I have only met him once before, but he is a wizard, and their advice should always be headed."  
  
"A wizard?" asked Eladlín. "What are they?"  
  
"Ma(a that were sent by the Gods to protect the peoples of Middle Earth. They have magical powers, and can cast spells when their staff is in their hand. Radagast is known as the Brown wizard because he loves the trees and animals."  
  
Silence followed his speech, as each was too enwrapped in their own affairs to respond. Eladlín watched slowly as the landscape changed. The snow faded away and was replaced with the simple shine of flowers dotting the meadow. The air warmed, and the constant breeze slowed and stopped. The stubby mountain brush was replaced by the flowing grass of the meadows once again, and trees slowly reappeared on the horizon. Soon Eladlín heard the sweet gurgle of a brook, and Caranaur slowly directed him to the banks. As the horse dipped his head into the stream Eladlín heard a high pitched giggle. Curious, he attempted to cross the water, but Radagast appeared from nowhere and blocked his path. "That is not the right way, my young friend. Follow me." He reached out and placed a hand on Caranaur's hand, who, despite Eladlín's wishes, followed the wizard willingly.  
  
"There is something out there!" he protested.  
  
"I am sure it was only the wind. Now, come along, for our camp is just around the bend."  
  
Eladlín took one final glance over his shoulder, as if to remember the spot, and rejoined the others. True to his word, Radagast led them to a sheltered camp a short distance away.  
  
"Were you expecting company?" asked Haldamir, marveling at the impressive spread.  
  
"No. And yes." finished the wizard.  
  
"Right then..." muttered Siriondil under his breath. Soon the company had settled in, but oddly enough Radagast made no mention of their journey. They ate a small dinner and still there was silence. Eventually talk arose of other matters which did not concern Eladlín. He found the conversation tiresome and quietly edged away from the company. He would have succeeded, if Mararion had not stopped him. "You should not wander in these woods. We do not know what they hold." Yet something in Mararion's voice made Eladlín realize that he spoke a lie. Choosing to keep his opinions to himself, he waited for the others to rest. One by one they drifted into sleep until only Mararion and Eladlín remained. He pretended to snore, and Mararion turned his attention to the horses and led them out to graze. Eladlín knew he had to move quickly. He shoved two small bundles under his blanket, so it looked as though he was still there, and struck out for the brook. There was something there. And he had to find it.  
This is an extremely short chapter, but I feel badly about the delay (once again) and so I'd decided to post this, even though it is almost insignificant. Any guesses where they have landed? Cookies for the right answer! *Since Mararion has never been married, (and since elves, in my mind at least, hold a shred of morality) he doesn't have little elflings running around his home. So I think he would come to think of his animals as his children, much as many unmarried people do. 


	10. Chapter 10: The Land of Children

Chapter 10 The Land of Children  
Eladlín stole quietly through the brush and waited for a few moments. His escape was successful. He carefully traced his path back to the brook and waded through the shallow water. He pulled back the foliage on the old willow and peered through. His breath left him in a short hiss of amazement. Before him lay an elaborate farming community that had obviously been there for thousands of years. But instead of small houses, the people lived in hills! Each knoll concealed a tiny family, even though Eladlín himself could barely fit through one of the doors. His curiosity fueled by his findings, Eladlín snuck up to the window of the closest building, where he observed a family seated around the evening dinner table. To his amazement, he found that they were not ordinary people, but strange, miniature folk with gigantic, hairy feet. He leaned even closer to the window and slipped on the wet grass, throwing a fist into the window and breaking the glass. He sat dazed for a moment as the head of the family ran outside, a blunt axe in his hands. He found Eladlín laying on the ground and grabbed a fistful of his shirt. He let out a loud whooping noise, and in one fluid motion hundreds of doors opened and people spilled out of them, each armed with their weapon of choice.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
The farmer growled menacingly. "He's one of the big folk, though he's not but a child."  
  
Eladlín looked up and spat, "I am more than just a child."  
  
The farmer kicked him, and he quieted. "Silence. I have no tolerance for trespassers."  
  
"Let me go! I have done no wrong!"  
  
"Aye, we shall see about that. Constable Peregrin!"  
  
A younger farmer walked out of the crowd, "What shall we do with him?"  
  
"Lock him up. He has broken my window, and he will pay."  
  
Peregrin picked Eladlín up gently and lead him away from the crowd. "You picked the wrong hobbit to mess with, little master."  
  
"Did you say 'hobbit'?"  
  
"Aye, that is the name of my people. Come along then, and my wife shall fix you up. What company have you come with? Is Radagast your leader?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Then our law will fall in your favor. Radagast is one of the few big people trusted 'round these parts. What is your name, anyways?"  
  
"Eladlín, son of Lord Elros."  
  
"Best not to mention the Lord part. Shan't hold well with the others. I am Peregrin Took*, but you may refer to me as Pippin. Now, I do not claim to know my big people well, but I am sure you must be a child, regardless of what you said back there."  
  
"I am old enough." replied Eladlín stoutly.  
  
Peregrin gave a small, lopsided grin. "Come along, Master Eladlín. I shall find Radagast in the morning and you will be free to pass as you please. Though I suggest you do not sneak up on a hobbit again. We are a people easily rattled."  
  
"I noticed."  
  
This produced yet another grin from the cheery hobbit, and Eladlín found himself liking Pippin more and more by the minute. He was average size for a hobbit, with curly light brown hair and rather large ears. His hands were rough and callused, though Pippin was no mariner. He tilled the earth with the aide of his small pony, and such work led to rough hands.  
  
A few minutes later, they arrived at Pippin's home. "Come along then, lad. The missus will be wanting to see you."  
  
A loud, feminine voice called out from the kitchen, "That you, Pip? What was all the ruckus?"  
  
"'Twas Farmer Maggot calling out the country alarm."  
  
"Well, why would he do that? I thought those big dogs of his could fend for themselves."  
  
"Well, lass, 'tis a bit more complicated than that." he said as he led Eladlín into the kitchen.  
  
"Lands alive!" exclaimed Pippin's wife as she dropped the silver tea kettle with a large clunk. Eladlín immediately bent over and picked it up, as tea was blossoming forth all over the floor. He handed it out to her, and she took it back with a shaky hand. "But you...big folk..." she gasped, clearly at a loss for words.  
  
"Rose, may I introduce Eladlín of the Big People? Eladlín, this is my wife, Rosie Took."  
  
"Puh-puh-pleased to me-meet you." she sputtered.  
  
"Likewise, Milady." he replied, figuring that manners of the High Table would suit him well in this situation.  
  
"Ah, now there's no need to be using fancy terms on my Rosie." said Pippin as he wrapped his free arm around her waist.  
  
The movement seemed to reassure her. "Thank you, Pip." she replied sarcastically.  
  
"Welcome! Now Rosie, what about my dinner?"  
  
"Ah men! Do you ever think about anything else?" Pippin shook his head, and she rolled her eyes. "Give me a minute, and I'll set out an extra place for the young one."  
  
Pippin led Eladlín into a small family room, and they settled themselves on two wooden chairs. "Now then lad. Tell me of your journey. Where are you headed?"  
  
"To Lindon, land of the elves."  
  
"I should imagine so! Fine tales are told of that land, though they are hard to come by in these parts. We have a great mistrust of your kind, as I believe I've told you before."  
  
Eladlín started to reply, but he was interrupted by Rosie calling them to supper. They walked into the kitchen and sat down before the magnificent spread. Eladlín went to butter his bread, but Pippin stopped him. "Wait a moment." he told him sternly. Pippin bowed his head for a few brief seconds, and then reached for another slice of bread. Seeing Eladlín's confused look he told him, "We must thank nature for what it has given us. 'Tis only fair, considering what we rob her of daily."  
  
Eladlín smiled to show his understanding, and Rosie ventured a question, "What are you big folk doing in Tookland, anyways?"  
  
"I am afraid I cannot answer truly, miss..."  
  
"Ah, just call me Rosie." she interrupted.  
  
"Rosie 'tis then. Anyways, I am not sure of our path, I know only of our destination. We were chased out of the mountain pass by Wargs and orcs early this morning."  
  
Pippin gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "There are no beasts of that sort in this land."  
  
"I beg to differ, sir. One of our company was almost slaughtered this morning, and would have been if Radagast had not saved him."  
  
Pippin gave Eladlín a stern look. "I will have no tomfoolery in my house, lad. You understand me?"  
  
"But I speak the truth!"  
  
Pippin stared hard into his eyes, and sighed. "I see it in your face, you speak truth. Dark times are a-coming to this world then. We have lived in peace for many a year, since my grandfather's grandfather, at least. I should hate to see the world left to ruins."  
  
"What do you mean by that, Pip?" asked Rosie quietly.  
  
"I wish I knew. I just remember my father's words of a time when nothing grew in Middle Earth. It just burned. 'Twas a barren wasteland."  
  
Rosie gave a small shiver. "Speak not of it Pip. Such talk will ruin a meal."  
  
"Too right you are lass, too right."  
  
Shortly thereafter the meal was finished and Pippin led Eladlín into a small guestroom. He placed a small lantern on the end table. "Is there anything else you'll be needing lad?" Eladlín shook his head no, and Pippin continued, "Goodnight then. And I am sorry, but I must lock the door. I trust you, but the others do not. Call if you need me, and I'll gladly let you out."  
  
"Thank you for your kindness."  
  
Pippin smiled softly, "Sweet dreams lad."  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Whoa. Wait a minute. Didn't I just put out a chapter, like, a week ago? Hold on. Guess I'm gonna just have to hole this on my computer for a while...just kidding! actually, this chapter came really fast (I did it in a half an hour which is like light speed for me). Well, I'm sorry to say that no one gets cookies, because no one guessed Eladlín's location...he was on the outskirts of the Shire, and now he's in Tookland. As to where he will go next.well that will just ruin it, won't it? Thanks for all the reviews everyone! Keep them coming!  
  
Jo March~ I swear to God I'll catch up with your story one of these days. I reviewed a couple of chapters last time I think, which should put at about two behind.ehh ok I know, I know I'll get to in the next time I have a moment.  
  
Yes, I am aware of the fact that Peregrin Took existed during the Lord of the Rings period, not Elros'...I just like the name. Who says they can't be reused?  
  
And about Farmer Maggot...throughout his writing (if you have ever read "The Return of the Shadow: History of the Lord of the Rings volume 1") Tolkien hinted that Farmer Maggot was anything but your average hobbit. In fact, its actually unclear as to whether he was really a hobbit or not. According to Tolkien, he had a connection with Tom Bombadil, which could make him, if not immortal, then at least very long-lived. If this was so, it would also explain his relocating from Tookland to Buckland... 


	11. Chapter 11: Stars Fading in the Twilight

before I start this chapter, I'd just like to give a little heads up. At one point (I won't name it exactly, that will spoil it!) things seem to get a little sketchy between Eladlín and Siriondil. Just so you know, its not slash at all. its well, something different. but, I won't say anything more here. you'll see. Oh, and there is a hmm, shall I call it crude?, joke in there, but it isn't really anything bad. And I didn't think that one line constituted a ratings change...  
  
~~~~~~~~~  
Chapter 11 Stars Fading in the Twilight  
  
Eladlín woke with a start, breathing heavily. He glanced around the room and slowly laid back down on the floor as he attempted to regain control of his breath. It had been long since he had stayed in a bed, and hobbit beds were particularly narrow. Pippin opened the door with a quick snap of the handle, "Is anything amiss, lad?" he questioned.  
  
"I am fine." muttered Eladlín as he pulled himself up. "It has just been long since I slept in a bed, especially one made for small folk."  
  
Pippin let out a hearty laugh. "Come join me, lad. Rosie is preparing our breakfast."  
  
"Aye, I will be out in a second." Pippin shut the door behind him, and Eladlín shook out his clothes before he dressed. As he slid on his tunic, he noticed that the arms stopped well before his wrists. Unsure, he gave the shirt a good shake, but still the sleeves remained on his forearms. He looked at himself in the mirror, and found the change appealing. His childish face was slowly aging as it shaped itself out of the molding clay of boyhood. His days of riding had given him slight muscles in his arms, which were clearly noticeable through the fabric of his tunic. His eyes had also darkened to a deep misty grey, which, although he did not know it, mirrored the color of Elrond's eyes. His features came predominantly from his father's side, although he was born with his mother's curving ears and her high cheekbones. Sighing gently, he walked away from the mirror. It held too many memories of the world he had left behind.  
  
Thankfully, Pippin was oblivious to the change in Eladlín's attitude, and he did not notice the boy's silence throughout breakfast. "As soon as I finish I shall track down Radagast. You will have to accompany me, or Farmer Maggot will have my head for supper."  
  
Eladlín smiled. "There is no need to track him. I remember the path I took last night."  
  
Pippin stood up from his seat, and wiped his mouth gently on the napkin. "Then lead the way, lad."  
  
The two walked out of the house, and Pippin gave a low, short whistle. A small shepard mix came bounding out of a nearby garden. "'Lo, Sergeant." said Pippin as he bent to scratch his ears. "Go on, then." he commanded, and the dog trotted off ahead of them. The two companions strode along in silence until they reached Farmer Maggot's place. "Constable Peregrin!" shouted Farmer Maggot.  
  
"Yes?" Pippin replied.  
  
"Where are you going with my prisoner? He has yet to pay his debt!"  
  
"I have business in the countryside this morning, and I thought it would do the boy a bit of good to stretch his legs."  
  
"Well, I disagree. Please bring him back. The young ones are particularly fast. He will run away!"  
  
"I cannot, Farmer Maggot. The boy is with Radagast, and has lost his way. I must speak with the wizard. I assure you that your window will be replaced. Worry not."  
  
Farmer Maggot snorted his disbelief, but his fondness for Pippin prevented him from speaking a cruel word. Pippin turned and lead Eladlín away by the arm. "Quickly, my boy, before he changes his mind! I have no intention of fighting off his dogs today."  
  
Sergeant had already reached the brook, and was lapping noisily when Pippin arrived. "Over the water then, much as I hate it."  
  
"How can you dislike water?"  
  
"Perhaps it is a hobbit problem, I have never really spoken of it. I just cannot find it in me to trust the water. It is far too hasty for my taste."  
  
Eladlín sighed. "I spent three months aboard a ship a few months back. 'Twas the best few months of my life. The smell of salt, and the sound of the waves...it grants life."  
  
Pippin grimaced as he waded across the stream. "Whatever you say, lad."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"What do you mean he is missing?" asked Siriondil slowly.  
  
"He must have left late last night, though I confess I watched him closely and saw no sign of movement. He stuffed his blanket with straw so I would not notice."  
  
"How could you let him leave? He is naught but a little boy! 'Tis a dangerous world, and he is lost in the midst of it!"  
  
"I do not see how arguing will help the situation." commented Radagast quietly. "I will find the boy. I have spent many years in this country, and the people trust me."  
  
"There is no need for that!" remarked Eladlín as he strode out of the brush, Pippin and Sergeant in tow. Siriondil whipped around, and a broad smile passed over his face. He took Eladlín in his arms and hugged him tightly. Surprised, the boy tried to shy away, but Siriondil just grasped him tighter. Finally, Eladlín consented and held him back, and Siriondil slowly lowered him to the ground. "I thought I had lost you." he said slowly.  
  
Eladlín watched his face for the anger that would normally follow such a statement, but there was only sorrow, and something deeper that he could not read. "But I am fine. I just went exploring for a little while."  
  
Siriondil held that same look, and did not look away, for quite some time. It made Eladlín rather uncomfortable, for it stirred in him something he had never felt before. Radagast broke the heavy silence with a clearing of his throat. Everyone glanced towards him, except for Siriondil. "What is that?" he questioned, for he had never seen a hobbit.  
  
Pippin mistook the question, "You have never seen a dog before? This is Sergeant, my shepherd. Worry not, he will not bite."  
  
"No, I meant..." began Siriondil before Mararion gave him a sharp nudge.  
  
Pippin gave him a queer look, then he appeared to remember something. "Have I not introduced myself? I am sorry. My name is Peregrin Took, and I am a hobbit of the Shire."  
  
"Indeed." replied a rather skeptical Siriondil.  
  
"How did you find me, Pippin? And how did you come across the boy?" questioned Radagast.  
  
Mararion looked between all the companions. "It appears we have some things to discuss. Has everyone eaten?" he said, directing his question at Pippin.  
  
"Aye, we had breakfast before we left this morning." He sat on a nearby log, and recounted the tale of Eladlín's adventures. As he finished, Haldamir left to ready the horses.  
  
"I am sorry we cannot stay, Pippin, but the door of opportunity is closing. We must leave these lands, before it is too late."  
  
Pippin nodded and stood. "I understand. May I ask one more question of you though? What of the orcs? Have they entered our lands?"  
  
"Alas. The one question you ask is the one I cannot answer. But worry not. Your borders are well protected. I have seen to that."  
  
Eladlín interrupted, "Must you stay? Join our company!"  
  
Pippin smiled and turned away. "My heart is in these lands, as is my life. I cannot leave."  
  
"No, indeed." agreed Radagast. "The time has not yet come for hobbits to be known in our world."  
  
Eladlín gave Radagast a confused look. "May I have no say in any of these matters?"  
  
Pippin gave one last grin. "Listen to him, lad. He is wiser than he looks. 'Tis the journey of a lifetime, lad. You remember that."  
  
The cheery hobbit turned away and walked off into the woods, whistling along to a merry tune. Sergeant stood still for a few minutes and watched Eladlín closely before following his master. Mararion gathered the leads of the two packhorses. "Come, my friends. Our journey has barely begun."  
  
Eladlín found himself traveling near Radagast, and used the opportunity to ask a question. "How did you know who I was?"  
  
Radagast gave a serene smile. "Have you heard why they call me Radagast the Brown?" Eladlín nodded, and he continued. "I sat in these very woods a few nights ago, when a small hawk came to me and told me of your plight."  
  
Eladlín smiled. "I remember that! He came to me in the night, and I wondered where he lived, and why he had come to me."  
  
"Many of your questions will remain unanswered until you meet Lord Elrond, which should be soon, barring any further problems."  
  
The boy gave a small groan. "All this talk of Lords. It bores me so. I want to understand now!"  
  
"And such is the way of men, who know not the ways of the world. For the life of a man is but a candle, fragile and short-lived."  
  
Eladlín sat puzzled as Radagast rode ahead. Mararion smiled. "Patience, my young companion. You have nearly reached the height of the leaves. A few more months and I shall reveal my secrets."  
  
Eladlín grinned and turned away. Mararion watched him ride to Siriondil with a wistful heart. Such a bond existed between the two. He had never shared his heart with anyone, be it man or mortal. His life was one of solitude and silence. An elf is at home amongst the trees and the living creatures, but he also craves the warmth of an embrace and the comfort of a loving smile.  
  
"An apple for your thoughts, brother." said Haldamir, tossing a ripe fruit at him.  
  
Mararion caught it easily. "I am lonely." he confessed. "Though you have lost your love, you have had one yet. My life has had no such joy, and I now understand how worn my heart has become."  
  
"Ah, worry not, your virginity will not last! I am sure plenty of girls in Lindon will have you!" he laughed, elbowing Mararion's chest gently.  
  
Mararion looked away. "I do not jest, brother."  
  
"Oh." Haldamir's expression fell slightly. Not knowing what to say, he let Mararion ride ahead.  
  
The day progressed without further excitement, and the company came to rest near the border of Buckland. Mararion did not eat, and quickly left Haldamir to care for the others. He began his own small journey through the woods. Each step brought him closer to understanding, and yet at the same time further away. For he did not know it, but the key to his world lay inside a child.  
  
Eladlín readied his sleeping bag again. Siriondil had been given first watch, and was already snoring away. "At least Mararion gave me a bit of a challenge." smiled Eladlín as he crept away. He found Mararion seated on a large oaken log. He gazed off into the surrounding countryside, full of small sloping chimneys puffing smoke out into the twilight, where it mingled with the moon. "Mararion?" he asked cautiously.  
  
"Leave me be, boy. I am in no mood for speech tonight." Mararion replied gruffly.  
  
"I know what pains you."  
  
Mararion spun around. "You cannot. No one does. Not even Haldamir."  
  
"Haldamir is blinded by his own grief. You should not place your burdens on his back, or it may very well break him."  
  
Mararion turned away from him. "You are wise beyond your years, Eladlín. Come, tell me what ails me."  
  
Eladlín understood that this way as close to an invitation as he would ever receive. He settled himself next to his friend and embraced him. He did not understand the words that came from his mouth, though he knew that something had put them in his mind. "All is not lost. Though I am young, and my heart an innocent gold, I can still see the life that has been yours to bare. Remember your lineage. You are of the Noldori, the proud race of old. Our grief cannot overcome us, for we still have purpose in the Lands of Middle Earth. Renew your heart and feel joy. There are many that love you, you have just been blinded by the obstacles in life." He stood and walked away from Mararion, knowing that his deed was done. Eladlín would never understand why those words had come to him, or what they meant, but he knew that Mararion would not fade that night. The paths before him were long yet, and Mararion realized this as he watched the stars fade through the early morn.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
If you are Captain Obvious (meaning you don't catch things) skip ahead to the third paragraph. I have some spoilers for the rest of my story in here.  
Ok, so as I have altered history, I have a bit of explaining to do, yes? Well, to make things short, I decided to include a bit about the coming back of Sauron (as if that wasn't obvious enough). Well, although life for Elrond and Gil-galad would not have changed in this time period, Elros, as a man, would be, er, dead. and so would his kids. and his kid's kids. anyways, I understand that a son of Elros would not be alive during these times. but, then again, this is my story, so I am allowed to alter history slightly. So everything is about what's happening is correct according to my research (except for hobbits, but more on that later), but I have done a small amount of mixing and matching time periods.  
  
Hobbits~ migrated into what is now known as the shire when sauron rose for the second time (as in, after the slaying of Gil-galad) in greenwood (mirkwood), and basically scared the bajeebies out of them so bad they moved. didn't know this when I wrote the pippin chapters, and frankly am not going to change it because I really liked pippin. so deal. *Holds up her "Stubborn Author Award'*  
  
phew. that was a lot of history. and as for my opinion of this chapter, I missed Mararion. he was/is too good a character to lose in the crowd. actually *glances around furtively to make sure no one is listening* he's my favorite (well, him and Eladlín). but shhhh! don't tell anyone! 


	12. intermission

doop de doop doop  
  
welcome to the intermission. feel free to distance yourself from reality here and space out. try one of those cool cokes in your refrigerator (brought direct to you from either your mom or roommate) or go heat up some micro waved popcorn! and for the record, I am not legally insane, the only purpose of this is to replace an old message.   
  
end of intermission  
  
doop de doop doop 


	13. Chapter 12: Broken Dreams

Ok, this chapter only is going to be rated PG-13 for some battle scenes that I would not want my 4 year old cousin watching (and she is what I base my ratings on).  
  
Chapter 12 Broken Dreams  
  
"Hurry then, Eladlín! We have no time to spare." called Siriondil from across the wooden barrier.  
  
Eladlín rolled his eyes in a rather unprincely fashion. "Can you not wait five minutes?"  
  
Siriondil shook his head slowly and rejoined the company. "I am afraid he will be a while longer."  
  
Cararnaur stamped impatiently, and Mith(l shook out her silverly mane. A few moments of brief silence ensued before Siriondil called out again. "Eladlín! I mean it!"  
  
The boy sighed and hoisted himself out of the water. He quickly dried himself and changed back into his clothes, which Mararion had mended for him the day before. He quickly noticed that a few inches of grey elvish material had been added to the arms, and that the holes in the knees of his pants had been repaired. Satisfied with the change, he strode through the woods to join the rest of the company. A few of them wore patronizing looks, but Eladlín thought it a bit rich of them. After all, Haldamir had been in the water for over an hour the night before. Eladlín had barely received twenty minutes. "Quickly then!" began Radagast, "We are entering unfriendly lands, and speed is of the essence." He turned and led the company away from the River Lune. Eladlín glanced back over his shoulder. The river had been a friendly place, full of extra food and stores of firewood that other travelers had left behind. It was the last true camp between the fields of Farthing and the land of Lindon.  
  
"Lindon..." murmured Eladlín. He liked the sound of the word, and he enjoyed the strange feeling it awoke in his heart. There his questions would be answered. Why had his father sent him away? Who was Elrond? Why was he drawn away from home?  
  
"Patience." said Haldamir gently, pulling Eladlín out of his quiet reverie. "We are not there yet. We must still pass through the Wild before we arrive in Mithlond."  
  
"And that is a journey in itself!" commented Radagast. "Come here, my lad." he said slowly, motioning towards Eladlín. The boy rode up to him. "You will stay by my side for the rest of the journey. We are leaving the net of safety."  
  
"Why is it so dangerous? This land has been traveled before, for I can see the paths."  
  
"As you should. But these paths were not made by men, dwarves, or elves. How their existence came about is a mystery, though I have heard it is from the Warg herds."  
  
"Herds?" questioned Siriondil, who was beginning to become a bit wary himself.  
  
"Aye. After the fall of Melkor, his demons spread out into the depths of Middle Earth. It is believed that the Wargs chose the Wild as a land of breeding."  
  
Eladlín shuddered involuntarily. "How do we avoid them?"  
  
"Run." said Mararion shortly. He had pulled up in the front of the group, and Midheiliant paced unsteadily. Eladlín followed his horrified gaze to find a pack of five Wargs on the trail in front of them. The first one rose slowly, smelling the air and sensing the tension on the breeze. His jaws snapped as a small fly flew past, thus revealing his large teeth. Eladlín gulped audibly. They could easily crush a man's head in an instant. Without thinking, Siriondil grabbed Caranaur's mane and whipped him around. Tossgalenas carried Siriondil back down the path as the wolves leapt as one. They were a complete unit, each aware of its role in the hunt. They moved fluidly together, and within moments had reached the elves and Radagast. Siriondil glanced back over his shoulder to see Haldamir thrown and his horse slaughtered.  
  
"Keep going! I will come back for you!" he yelled as he dismounted and ran back.  
  
"Siriondil!" screamed Eladlín as he pulled up Caranaur. Tossgalenas bowled into them, sending all three flying. The two horses rose quickly and sped down the trail, leaving Eladlín sprawled on the ground. "Caranaur!" he cried weakly, but to no avail. He looked down at his useless arm, which had bent around his back and broken during the fall. Blood streamed down his wrist as tears masked his dirty face. He pulled himself up and crawled towards the trail before his legs gave out. He saw Mararion raise a bloody blade as blackness swept through his mind and he fell to the ground unconscientious.  
  
Mararion watched the Wargs come at him with a grim certainty. He would perish in the onslaught. They hit him with the force of a thousand blows, crushing the air from his chest. But Midheiliant stood strong and fought back with a vicious rear. The first wolf was kicked aside, and quickly slaughtered by Haldamir, who had been thrown in the initial charge. Suddenly Siriondil appeared next to him. "The boy!" grunted Haldamir as he threw himself to the ground in order to dodge another blow.  
  
"He is fine!" replied Siriondil. Radagast removed a silver sword from its scabbard and artfully beheaded one of the Wargs. His horse fought bravely, but was sorely outnumbered and finally succumbed to its injuries. Radagast leapt aside as the pack moved in. Mararion recovered his wind and watched from his perch as the last three wolves devoured the carcass and spun around, teeth bared. "This is it." he thought. He pulled his bow from the side pack of Midheiliant. Although it had not seen service in many years, the old yew bow responded to Mararion's last touch and a single arrow sung through the air, burying itself in the heart of one of the monsters. A second beast swung at Mararion, who was caught unawares and toppled into the dust. He lay forgotten, and the two remaining Wargs advanced on Siriondil and Haldamir. Radagast joined them quickly, but no good could come of it.  
  
Haldamir closed his eyes, and saw the golden fields of the Valar once again. Ainalindë stood there and smiled. "Soon, my love. It is almost time."  
  
He opened his eyes again. The Wargs were even closer now, but he could not feel pain or fear. "My love...She comes for me!" he whispered.  
  
Siriondil shook gently, and Radagast placed a gnarled hand on his shoulder. "Mandos calls, my son. But we shall not greet her without a fight." The two rushed forward in a last attempt at victory. They hit the Wargs as one and even managed to push them back for a moment before the Wargs surged forward. Both were thrown to the ground and Siriondil gave a yell of anguish as claws ripped at his body. He brought his hands to his face as the blows subsided. Puzzled, he lowered his hands as he heard shouts. Strange people surrounded him and pulled him out from under the dead beast. They spoke a strange language, but Siriondil recognized it from somewhere. Suddenly he saw a flash of golden and a leaf-shaped ear was revealed from behind a lock of hair. The Noldor! He tried to speak, but his attempt at Quenya came out in broken Sindarian, "Garaf! Garaf! Raug! Maeg!" (Wolf! Wolf! Demon! Piercing!)  
  
"Quiet, young one. You must rest." They replied. "You are safe. Rest." They gave him a small bowl filled with a clear liquid. He drank deeply and remembered no more.  
  
The elves searched the battlefield with the aid of Haldamir. Having not rushed forward with the others in the final attack, he alone was uninjured physically. Yet mentally he held the weight of a thousand worlds. All of the company had been found, save for Eladlín. Caranaur had returned, but the child was nowhere to be found. "He is not here." said one of the elves quietly. "He must have been taken by the Wargs."  
  
"No!" yelled Haldamir. "The boy is not lost! He is here!" He wheeled around and faced his kin. "I know it, he is not, he can not..." he dissolved into sobs and fell down on the ground. The elves wore expressions of pity as they leaned down to help their comrade. "Do not touch me!" he screamed. "Leave me!" Silence ensued, and tears streamed down Haldamir's face. "Ainalindë! Ainalindë! Where have you gone?" he whispered.  
  
"I am here." replied a voice. Haldamir shot up. It had come from the clump of bushes off the trail.  
  
"Where?" he asked again.  
  
"Haldamir!" cried a frail voice. Haldamir crashed into the woods, where he found Eladlín curled in a ball. "Haldamir!" he moaned weakly. The elf stooped and cradled the boy in his arms. "Quiet then, lad. 'Tis safe now. Quiet." The other elves stood at the edge of the wood, afraid of what Haldamir might have found. Once Eladlín was brought forth, however, they sprang into action, tending to his cuts and bruises and setting his arm. Within a few minutes, he too had been given the clear potion and was safely tucked away in dreamland. Only Haldamir was left behind to clean up the mess. Four horses dead, two sorely wounded. He knelt by his two steeds, one of which was the brave Niphredil, who had given her life to save the master she loved so dearly. "And I could not even fight back in your memory." he mumbled. He also buried the extra packhorse from the Shire and Radagast's steed on that rainy morning. He looked back at his friends. They had lost so much, and yet still they slept in bliss. "Why must I be the one that endures?" he asked quietly.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Mararion stirred and groaned softly. Although his back was slightly numb, pain still coursed through his veins. He opened one eye to find several elves tending to a small figure. He raised himself to a sitting position. "Where am I?" he asked.  
  
"In the midst of the Wild, brother." replied Haldamir.  
  
Suddenly, Mararion remembered the fight. "What of everyone else? How are they?"  
  
"They will recover in time." He shrugged as he sheathed his knife and threw down his whittling stick. "Only the horses were lost."  
  
Mararion stood immediately, wincing at the sudden pain. "Where is Midheiliant? Caranaur?" he began to walk through the clearing, limping heavily on his left leg. "Where are they, Haldamir?"  
  
Haldamir rose quickly and prevented him from going any further. "Quiet, or the others will have my head for supper. Your horses are fine, though Mith(l and Midheiliant are slightly the worse for wear. It was Nephredil, my mount, and two of Radagast's horses that succumbed to their injuries."  
  
At the mention of the little filly, Mararion swung around unsteadily. "Oh Eru, Haldamir. Not Neph."  
  
"Indeed. But such is the way of the world. It was meant to be."  
  
"I am sorry, my brother."  
  
"Sorrow will not help the others. You are the first to awaken. Come back with me and help tend to Siriondil. He was injured most grievously." Haldamir steadied his friend and lead him back to the side of their companion. Despite the elves skillful hands, blood still seeped from the wound in his shoulder. Mararion pulled back the bandage and winced involuntarily. Siriondil stirred, as the touch of the elf hands sent shivers of pain down his spin. He opened a groggy eye. "What has happened?" he mumbled, "Have I arrived in Mandos?"  
  
"Not yet, Siriondil. I could not give you up that easily." replied Mararion.  
  
Siriondil glanced up to see the familiar face peering down at him. The elf smiled gently and began to sing softly. Siriondil had heard the words long ago, by a gentle river in peaceful times. The sweet notes lulled him back to sleep, where his pain was forgotten and only his memories could haunt him. Mararion set to work changing his bandage. Another elf came by and offered him a poultice of mint and everberry leaves. He applied it to the wound, where it would bound to the skin and halt the blood flow for some time. He wrapped the torn tunic slowly around his shoulder and turned away. "What of the others, Haldamir? Have they also fared as poorly as Siriondil?"  
  
"I know not of Radagast. The elves took him shortly after the battle finished. Once they realized who he was, they rushed him back to their own village in Lindon. Eladlín is safe, though in pain from his broken arm. But we have not the medicine to curb his pain here, as I am sure you have noticed."  
  
Mararion smiled faintly and ran a hand down the scratch marks on his back. One of the healing elves approached him. "Sir, may I speak with you privately?" he asked, glancing at Haldamir, who shrugged and walked away.  
  
"Yes?" replied Mararion.  
  
"We have waited for you to awaken, for the other claims that you are the leader of the fallen expedition."  
  
"I am."  
  
The elf nodded. "Then it is my duty to inform you that my own company must depart for Mithlond this evening. My men grow wary of this evil place, and all of your companions have been cared for to the best of our ability. We can do no more for your people."  
  
Mararion sighed. "Thank you for your help. But I am afraid that I must ask one more favor of you."  
  
"Yes?" asked the elf, prompting Mararion to continue.  
  
"We are also headed for the borders of Lindon, but many of our steeds we lost or injured in the battle. Do you have any horses to spare? We will return them to you as soon as we arrive in friendly borders."  
  
"Certainly." replied the elf, "Our food supplies have dwindled, and we have little need for two of our packhorses."  
  
"Thank you for your kindness."  
  
The elf mounted his mare. "It was gladly done for nya nossë."*  
  
He turned and led his people out of the clearing while Mararion stood in a stunned silence. At long last, he faced Haldamir. "There are others?"  
  
Haldamir nodded painfully. "All this time, we thought we were alone. But in northern Lindon there still lies a few small villages."  
  
"Villages? Of our people?"  
  
"Yes, or so it seems."  
  
Mararion shook his head in disbelief. "It cannot be. They must have picked it up from other wanderers."  
  
Haldamir smiled, knowing Mararion would not be convinced until he saw the towns for himself. "Come, let us ready the others. I agree with them, whomever they may be. Too much evil has seen these grounds."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Eladlín woke as the jolts shook his body. A firm hand wrapped around his waist, but he still did not feel safe. As he looked down at his feet, he realized why. "Gah!" he yelled. He was in the air!  
  
"Quiet, young one." whispered Mararion. "You are not flying, we are simply traveling by horseback."  
  
Eladlín tipped his head up to find Mararion concentrating on the trail ahead of them. He relaxed slightly. To their side he found Haldamir traveling on an unfamiliar steed and Siriondil trudging along on Tossgalenas. Although the mare tried to step as carefully as possible, she still jarred his shoulder painfully. "Where are we headed?"  
  
"To Lindon."  
  
"But..."  
  
"Quiet. We shall speak no more in these tainted lands."  
  
Eladlín closed his mouth and continued to look along the trail. On the other side he found Midheiliant and Mith(l limping along beside Mararion, each shaking from the pain in their hindquarters. Caranaur followed them slowly, nudging them in sympathy each time they stumbled. The horse beneath them slipped on the rocky footing, and Mararion's grip tightened. Eladlín felt a rush of dizziness and he wobbled unsteadily. Mararion glanced down with a concerned look on his face. Despite the elves best efforts, Eladlín had been left in the brush for far too long. He had lost too much blood and he now quivered on the edge of consciousness. Meanwhile, Siriondil's grip on reality was also loosening. Haldamir rode along beside him, supporting him with his free shoulder. Mararion quickened his pace. They did not have much time to spare.  
  
As the minutes bled into miles, Haldamir felt himself fading. Though elves could customarily go without sleep for a few nights at a time, it had been much longer since he had allowed himself to take from the lake of dreams. He watched both Mararion and Siriondil, concerned more for the others than himself. They both refused to give into their need for rest and he knew that before long they would have to halt.  
  
Something flew through the woods nearby. The elves pulled up their horses and glanced around nervously. They were no longer alone.  
  
"Who dares to enter our lands?" asked a deep, commanding voice.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
*nya nossë is quenya for 'my kin'. It marks the speaker as Noldorin for the language was forbidden by the grey elves and sindarian become the language of everyday use in middle earth. quenya was either not spoken at all or reserved for manners of the high court.  
  
Ainalindë, in case you can't tell, is Haldamir's first love. Her name is Quenya in origin, which I thought appropriate since she is of the Noldor. Here is the breakdown of what her name means, translated.  
  
Aina~holy lindë~singer  
  
The idea for the name was taken from  
  
well, I hope no one was offended by the battle. not my intention, of course if that did happen. just my way of working out my fustration will school and etc. oh, and thanks for all the support, everyone! but that doesn't mean you can stop now.I'd like it if you could review every chapter (from now on, no need to hash the past), but I totally understand if you don't have the time. tell me what sucked, what was great, what I need to do next time. this is why I post here!!  
  
~SilverElf~ 


	14. Chapter 13: Forged and Broken

Chapter 13 Forged and Broken

Mararion halted his mount and placed his spare hand on his yew bow. 

"There is no need for that." replied the voice. "You shall not draw weapons under my guard, or you and your companions will be shot from your mounts."

Mararion tightened his grip around Eladlín, "Lad?" he questioned softly. 

The boy nodded slowly, "I am fine."

Haldamir rode to the front of the company. "Fair words spoken from afar should be taken as threats, or so I was taught. Show yourself."

A single blonde elf strode out into the trail. He bowed to Haldamir with mock importance, "My name is Beriataur. How may I serve you?". Haldamir gritted his teeth angrily, but the elf shook his head. "Must I repeat myself? Do not move, or my archers will bury an arrow in your breast. State your business in Lindon or leave. I have no time to deal with foolishness."

"We have business with Lord Elrond, which was the original purpose of our journey. But two days ago we were ambushed by Wargs as we attempted to cross the Wild, and two of our number are sorely injured. We seek the skill of Mithlond's healers." replied Mararion, motioning to the fading Eladlín.

The gaze of the elf softened immediately. "Let me see the boy." Mararion handed Eladlín down and the elf looked over his wounds. "But he is a man!" he marveled. "You must have business with Lord Elrond, for only something of great importance would bring a company of men and elves together." he let out a low whistle, and ten elves on horseback strode out of the dense undergrowth. The elf lifted Eladlín back to Mararion, and mounted his own steed. "Come. We shall show you the way to healers." he started off at a brisk trot, and the others struggled to keep up. He glanced back concerned. "How long have you been traveling?" he asked.

"Too long." replied Haldamir, as he blinked and stifled a yawn.

"Can you continue for a few more miles?"

"If we set a slower pace." answered Mararion. "The injured horses cannot keep up, and a trot aggravates the wounds."

"Aye." replied the elf as he sent an envoy ahead to the healers. They continued in silence for the remainder of the journey. Neither Mararion nor Haldamir had the strength to speak, and Siriondil was in far too much pain. Eladlín sat suspended between a dream world and reality, for Mararion would not let him rest truly, but at the same time he felt disconnected from the world around him. As they turned a bend in the road, a magnificent city spread before them, carefully camouflaged under the protection of the forest. Each building wound its way around the trees, and care had been taken not to disturb the inner workings of the undergrowth. Siriondil inhaled a sharp breath. Though it was partly from pain, it also marked his amazement at the scene that lay spread out before him. Though Edhellond had been pretty, this was a true seaport. The bay lay spread out over the western coast, and vast mountains protected the northern and southern sides of the city. The sole passage into Mithlond lay on the western pass, where the sweet trees of Elvish hands mingled with the coarseness of the wild. Siriondil's eyes widened to take in all of the sights, and his pain was forgotten. Here was the place his soul had searched for all of his life. Elves had done what men could not They did not destroy nature, they found a way to coexist with it. Haldamir noticed the subtle change in his companion. "It is amazing, is it not?" 

Siriondil could only nod in reply. Before long, they stopped before a large silvery building. 

"Welcome to the home of the healers of Mithlond. There is a small stable in the rear that should house all of your horses. I will inform Lord Gil-galad of your arrival before I return to the forest. If any trouble arises, simply state that you are a companion of Beriataur."

"Thank you." replied Mararion.

"Think nothing of it. Times are changing in this land. Though my heart has resisted it, I now understand that it is beyond my power to control. I may only perform the tasks that are given to me to complete."

Though the others did not understand Beriataur's parting words, Mararion embraced them, for he alone could find the cryptic meaning in his farewell. As the elf turned to face his company, several healers poured forth from the building in front of them. They helped Eladlín and Siriondil dismount before leading the horses away to the stables. Haldamir and Mararion were left behind in the street. As the hustle slowly faded away, the two looked at each other and laughed gaily, as they had not done in many days. "After you, brother." chuckled Mararion. They entered the home of the healers together, their hearts free of worry. Both found empty beds and faded away into a long, deep slumber. 

~~~~~~~~~

Siriondil laughed gaily. Though Eladlín's arm was bound up in a complicated sling, he had still managed to outrun the healer in a vain attempt to avoid his evening bandage change. "I would not laugh, if I were you." muttered another elf as he undid Siriondil's own bandaging. 

Siriondil groaned, "Must we?"

"Aye, but they shall only come off tonight."

"Thank Eru for that." 

Meanwhile, Eladlín fought the healer bravely. "I. Do. Not. Need. Another. Sling." he finished, jumping away onto the bed. 

The elf shook his head. "My dear lad, do you not understand that this is necessary?"

"Why?" asked Eladlín as he leapt out of the elf's reach yet again. 

"You are to visit Lord Gil-galad tomorrow, and I have been given the arduous task of preparing you. If your cast is set properly tonight, you will have no need of one tomorrow."

Eladlín hesitated for but a moment before surrendering himself. Mararion watched him from another room, glad that his vivacity had finally returned. Though the recovery had been long and troubled, the boy had strength in his veins. Mararion turned back around to watch Haldamir try to soothe Siriondil, who was cursing repeatedly as the healer jarred his shoulder. He chuckled softly under his breath. At long last Haldamir returned to his companion. "He grows worse every time. I believe the poor healer has only worsened Siriondil's condition."

"I would drink to that."

"If only they had ale here….."

"Quiet. Tomorrow we shall meet with Lord Gil-galad, and then our lives will change."

Haldamir's peaceful face creased with lines of worry. Mararion's words filled him with naught but uncertainty. What if the fabled elf-lord was not the person they had all imagined?

~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning came slowly, but come it did. It had been a restless night for all of the companions. Siriondil stirred frequently as he tried to comfort his painful shoulder, and Eladlín felt the tenseness in the elves and could not sleep. Though he did not understand what was to partake in the morn, he knew that Mararion was nervous and that alone was enough to unsettle him. Haldamir took leave of the others to watch the sunrise from the roof of the building. He had never quite recovered from shock of Ainalindë, and it showed in his growing distance from the others. He had tried in vain to make peace with himself over the events that had occurred on that fateful day, but only seclusion gave him comfort. There he could distance himself from the living world and return to the fantasies that he had contrived back in his mountainside abode. There, Niphredil strode alongside him, but he was in the land of the Valar and the world was cheerful once more. The golden rays of the sun licked over the eastern mountains, shaking Haldamir out of his gentle reverie. He took a few minutes to clear his head before returning to the others. It was time.

"Why must I wear this?" complained Eladlín loudly. He was forced into a clean, white tunic, and a pair of uncomfortable new brown breeches. "What about my old clothes?"

"They are not appropriate for court, my lad." replied Mararion as he ran a comb through the boy's ragged hair. 

"OUCH!" Eladlín jerked his head away with a roar. "Enough!"

"Stop your complaining, or I shall have your bandages changed again. Would you prefer that?" asked Siriondil.

Eladlín hesitated for a moment, considering the idea thoughtfully. At least he could outrun the healer. However, in that moment, Mararion grabbed him and ran the comb through the last mat. "Finished." he grumbled as he turned to his own needs.

~~~~~~~~~~~

At long last the four companions were ready to depart. They waited anxiously near the door for a messenger to summon them to court. But as Haldamir watched out the window, it was not a messenger that he saw approaching them. It was Radagast. The old wizard climbed the stairs carefully, wincing slightly as he raised a wizened hand to greet them. The companions stood too stunned to reply, and Radagast laughed slowly. "I see that I still know how to make an entrance." Mararion made to speak, but Radagast silenced him. "I know what you want of me. When the other elves realized who I was, they rushed me back to their own village to care for my wounds. After a few days, I traveled back here to speak with others of my kind. Though I have yet to met Lord Gil-galad, I know that he awaits us, and Saruman the White has sent me here to summon you to court."

"What power has sent Saruman forth from Isengard?" asked Mararion as he began to understand the graveness of the situation. Though Beriataur the elf had revealed little, Mararion understood that something evil was taking hold in Middle Earth. But if Saruman had left his sanctuary, things were grave indeed.

Radagast's expression fell slightly. "You will understand when we arrive in court. Come, we have a fair distance to travel this morn." He lead Mararion ahead of the others and fell into a deep conversation with him. Haldamir understood that the two needed their privacy, and he held Siriondil and Eladlín back with him. After a lengthy walk, the company halted before a grand stone building. Though not large in stature, the magnificence and detail of the carvings around the front of the structure demanded importance. The wooden doors had been elegantly created from the wood of a large beech tree. Radagast let out a slow breath and pushed the doors open.

"Welcome to the court of Lord Gil-galad!" called a pompous voice. "Our Lord has summoned you here today, for he wishes to hear of your journey and your purpose!"

"That is enough, Nurnon." replied a majestic elf seated before them. "You may leave."

"As you wish, my Lord." The young elf bowed deeply and disappeared from the hall, leaving it empty save for Gil-galad and the companions. They stood together in a small group, for all were unsure of how to proceed. 

"Come forward." commanded Gil-galad. They bustled together, each too flustered to speak, and strode before him. As Eladlín approached, he watched the elf carefully. His brown hair cascaded down over his muscular shoulders. His gentle, blue eyes were searching and alert as he tried to read the people before him. Though he appeared young to most, Eladlín could see the fine lines of worry that creased his face. Like Lord Elros, this elf clearly suffered from the heavy duties and cares that came with ruling a kingdom. His hands clenched the throne roughly, for they were not the hands of a King. He had once fought in the fields with his men, and his arms bore the scars of his adventures. His tunic stopped near his elbows, and Eladlín could see the fine white lines that came with sword work. Suddenly, they were upon him, and Mararion halted the group. 

Gil-galad settled slightly, but then he jumped forth from his perch. His inspection of the group had glanced over the boy. He walked forward to them without a word and stopped before Eladlín. He grasped both of his arms, searching deep into his eyes. He looked up slowly at the group around them, without letting go of Eladlín. "Who are you?" he asked slowly. "Who are you?"

Though Siriondil had been able to restrain himself, the foreigner holding Eladlín was far too much for him to bear. "Leave him alone!" he cried, charging at Gil-galad. With one hand still holding onto the boy, Gil-galad calmly deflected the man and pulled a small dagger from the boot. He pulled Eladlín to him and placed the blade on his throat as he whispered, "I mean you no harm, lad. Do not struggle." Eladlín heeded his command as Siriondil, ready for another rush, stopped short, his face draining in an instant. 

"I will ask you one more time. Who are you?" said Gil-galad.

Siriondil returned the elf's level stare. "I will speak to none but Lord Elrond about the boy."

"Very well." replied Gil-galad as the others stared in awe at Siriondil's audacity. He let out a low, quavering whistle. A voice answered the sweet note. "Coming!" Soft footfalls padded down the stairs to the hall, and another elf appeared around the corner. He began to walk into the throne room, but stopped when he saw the position of Lord Gil-galad. He then looked down at his captive, and his breath stopped. Frightened eyes, glanced back up at Gil-galad, who nodded to the man across the room. "Introduce yourself." he said calmly.

"I, I am Elrond, son of Eärendil." he said nervously, he glance shifting from the boy to the man.

Siriondil relaxed immediately. The relation between the boy and the elf was unmistakable. "I am Siriondil, master mariner. I hail from Nú menor, and I present to you Eladlín, son of Lord Elros."

The breath hissed out of Elrond's mouth. He shut his eyes, hiding the tears that welled up behind them. Before the words had even come from Siriondil's mouth, he had known. He had the fighting spirit of his brother inside the eyes that mirrored his own. Slowly, his eyes opened and concentrated directly on the boy, who was promptly released from Gil-galad's hold. Elrond walked up to the lad, who was more than a little bewildered, and embraced him fiercely. After a moment, Elrond rose and looked towards Gil-galad. The Lord nodded his head once and Elrond fled the room, his barely contained emotions pleading to be released. Gil-galad returned to his perch at the end of the hall and sank wearily. He beckoned Eladlín to him, and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. The Lord of the Hall smiled as deeply as he could, though the faces of elves were not suited to such displays of emotion. But as stoic as his face appeared, the happiness of Gil-galad was given away by his eyes. They were filled with tears of joy.

Eladlín did not understand what was happening to him. He tried to return to Siriondil, who retreated behind Mararion. "Siriondil!" he cried, struggling to get away from Gil-galad. The hold on him was released, and he fled to the protection of his companion. But he found that the mariner would not look him in the eye. He did not respond to Eladlín's cries, but rather repeated, "My task is completed." over and over. Haldamir placed a soft hand on his shoulder. 

Mararion held Eladlín back. "Leave him be, lad."

Though his heart ached for the approval of Siriondil, Eladlín consented and turned to face Gil-galad. 

"What is happening, Mararion?" asked Eladlín. Mararion did not reply, but rather tightened his grip on Eladlín's shoulders.

"I think" began Gil-galad, recovering himself quickly, "That it is time I settled you into your rooms. You must be weary from your journey." Though both sides knew this was not true, it remained the sole way to end the awkward silence that had fallen over the throne room. 

"Yes." replied Mararion quickly. Nurnon was called, and the company was shown to their rooms. Afterwards, Nurnon returned to Gil-galad's side. 

"Tell Saruman that I will meet with him tomorrow, Nurnon. I do not wish to be disturbed unless it is of grave importance."

"As you wish, my lord." Nurnon left Gil-galad to his own emotions, and the King left his hall, desperate for the solace of nature. As he reached the shoreline it was high tide. The large waves broke noisily over the beach. Gil-galad looked out over the open ocean, as he had so many times, and wept. 

This seemed to be a good place to end. I have delayed for far too long, and so I feel compelled to update. Though I'd like to end without an a/n and leave you with that vision, I have a few housekeeping notes to share.

Beriataur~ literally translates as "protect wood", and meaning protector of the woods

Again, in my stupidity, I have re-written history by introducing the wizards far too early. It is now around the 1550-ish in the first age, but the wizards did not come to Middle Earth until the end of the first millennium of the third age. However, I am not going to rewrite the last few chapters to fix this error, I am just going to live with it. Sorry about that. Also, the next chapter will give more of an insight into Eladlín and Elrond, I know that this chapter kinda sucked in that regard. 


	15. Chapter 14: Tears of Sorrow and Tears o...

ok before we start this chapter, you have to know that I'm really proud of it. I don't think it could have come out any better than it did, and I ask you to be gentle with it. I don't think I could stand to have this chapter flamed.  
  
Chapter 14 Tears of Sorrow, Tears of Joy  
  
Though Mararion had promised that Elrond would give him answers, the arrival of the mysterious elf had only left Eladlín with more questions. He understood none of Mararion's parting words, or the sympathetic glance of Haldamir. And worst of all, he did not understand the reaction of King Gil-galad, and the elf that Siriondil had called Elrond. He looked as though he should be Eladlín's brother, but countless years and an entire race separated them. Nor could he comprehend the strange feeling he had had in his chest when he saw Elrond for the first time. "Arggh!" he yelled, venting his frustration on an unsuspecting table. He upended it and watched its contents spill to the floor, a strange desire rising in his chest. "I am no longer a child!" he screamed to no one in particular, "I can take what you have to tell me! I wish only to understand!" Tears filled his eyes again as he glanced out the window to find Haldamir and Radagast conversing. His mind filled with hatred. He knew they spoke of him, of his fate, but Mararion had locked him in the room, and they could not hear his cries. Exhausted, Eladlín fell onto the soft bed. "I wish Haldamir had never found me," he mumbled as sleep took him, "Better to have died than to suffer such a fate."  
  
Meanwhile, Elrond sat by the lake, his mind consumed with grief. The arrival of the child stirred the painful memories from so long ago. It seemed like many ages had passed since his brother had left him.He should have fallen into the unknown years before. Yet the arrival of the child also stirred hope within him. Perhaps their paths were not yet set in stone. "I may yet see the old fool before the sun wanes on our time here." he smiled. Though their parting had been hard and unfriendly, there were still many good memories from their years together. When Maglor had released them to the care of Gil-galad, and they saw the great city of Lindon for the first time, it was both the peak and the end of their relationship. It was on the journey to the city that they bonded together, for it was Elrond who was entrusted with his brother's care, and he performed his task diligently. Yet when they reached the city, it was Elros who chose to remain behind. Their parting was swift and angry, for Elrond truly believed that Elros denied the passion of his heart. That was the end, yes, and with it Elrond's heart had closed. He looked away from his reflection in the lake, for it reminded him of the bewildered child.  
  
"Yes." called his mind, "the child. Elros sent him to you, there must be a reason."  
  
He stood abruptly, and left for the visitor's quarters. Elrond would not leave the child to suffer the indignity and torment of not understanding. He had trodden down that path himself once.  
  
From his perch at the window, Eladlín watched the strange elf walk up to the tower. A few hours had passed since his fit, and now darkness was creeping into the city. Mararion had stopped by for a moment to tell him that he would collect Eladlín for dinner in an hour, but he left before Eladlín could ask him any questions. Now, however, it appeared that the strange elf had come for him. He argued animatedly with Haldamir before Radagast interrupted and the elf was allowed to continue. A few minutes later, a soft knocking was heard at the door. Eladlín opened it eagerly to find a peaceful face staring down at him. "Hello, Eladlín." the elf said quietly, "My name is Elrond."  
  
"Hullo, Elrond." replied Eladlín, lost for words now that he had the opportunity to take in the face of the elf. It was not unlike his own, and Eladlín found it odd that the two bore such a striking resemblance. Elrond stepped away from the door, beckoning for the boy to follow him. The two walked in silence through Gil-galad's private halls, finally coming to rest on a stone bench that overlooked the northern mountains. It stood on an elegantly carved balcony that curved gently around the bathhouse. The two looked out at the view for a long time, each unsure about how to proceed. Finally, Elrond cleared his throat and Eladlín nearly junped into his lap at the sudden noise.  
  
"Eladlín?" he questioned in the soft voice he had used earlier.  
  
"Yes?" replied Eladlín.  
  
"Do you know why you are here?"  
  
Eladlín shook his head. "I know only that you are supposed to give me the answers. Throughout my entire journey I have wondered why my father sent me away, but no one will answer my plea."  
  
"I am afraid that I cannot grant your request without the approval of Lord Gil-galad, though I do know the answers. Will it suffice to say that I am glad to have met you at long last?"  
  
Eladlín gave a forced nod as he fought back his frustration. However, Elrond's explanation, or lack thereof, had given Eladlín a clue about what was to come. "At long last." Did this mean that Elrond had expected him?  
  
However, before his mind could reply, Elrond stood up. "I have heard that you have a soft hand with a horse. I can delay dinner for a few hours if you would like to go riding with me."  
  
Eladlín followed him out into the courtyard. "I would. Do you know if Caranaur has healed?"  
  
"Who?"  
  
"My horse. Well, I suppose 'tis really Mararion's horse, but I rode him until we were attacked in the woods and I was injured."  
  
Elrond spun around at these last words. "Injured? What happened?"  
  
Eladlín raised his eyebrows. "You have not heard?"  
  
"Who was it? Did you see them? Were they of elven kind?" These questions were asked in quick succession.  
  
"It was only a pack of Wargs, there were no men or elves there."  
  
"Are you sure?" persisted Elrond. "There were no other creatures?"  
  
"No. What do you mean by that?"  
  
Elrond relaxed visibly. "You would understand, had you seen them. The orcs' activity has increased of late, and it would be of great concern had they strayed so close to our borders."  
  
"Well, we have been attacked by orcs before. Near Edhellond in the fields of Lamedon, they came at us, but then suddenly they turned and left. We never figured out why."  
  
"I doubt you ever will." replied Elrond as they reached the stables. A familiar whinny cried out to them, and Eladlín swung the stall door open with great delight. "Caranaur!" The chestnut wheeled and stamped. Elrond reached up and grabbed a bridle and a saddle. Eladlín frowned. "I am not a child, I have no need of that." he said as he swung himself up with practiced ease. Elrond watched him carefully for a few moments, his mind refusing to believe what he saw. Not only did the boy ride without a bridle and saddle, he did not even use the horse's mane to control him! He rode with an elvish air, and the horse responded as such. Eladlín gave him a strange look as he trotted out of the stall. Did the elf know nothing? Who rode with such strange contraptions? A few moments later, his questions were answered. Elrond sat astride a great black stallion, who skirted dangerously when others approached, but obeyed Elrond's every whim. Only a very skilled horseman could have tamed such a beast. 'Twas not horses that Elrond knew nothing about, it was Eladlín. The stallion struggled against Elrond for but a moment, for it was resistant to travel alongside Caranaur, but it eventually gave in at a light tap on the hindquarters. Caranaur regarded the newcomer as rather insolent and proceeded to ignore him for the rest of the journey.  
  
They rode out of the kingdom side by side. Eladlín found the courage to speak, and so he told Elrond of is journey. Elrond, however, found more comfort in silence, and was content to just listen to the boy. The trail led them into a crowded wood, for Elrond had taken care to avoid the ocean. He knew that Lord Gil-galad took solace there. "If it were I that grieved for a son, I would not want to be disturbed either." he thought to himself. Though truly Elrond and Elros were not bound by blood to Lord Gil-galad, it was he that had raised them. He had loved them as though they were his own. But Elrond shook such thoughts from his mind, for 'twas impolite to ignore the child.  
  
"And then Beritaur led us to the house of healers, and a few days later, Radagast brought us to court!" he finished triumphantly.  
  
"Who are these men you speak of?" asked Elrond gently, "Of Radagast I have heard but the others are unfamiliar to me."  
  
Eladlín continued, "Mararion is of the Noldor and I believe he held a position of some importance in Edhellond. Haldamir lived with his friends in the mountains, but he left his home to guide us through the pass. And Siriondil." he stopped short. Until now he had left his friend out of the story, for mentioning his name hurt beyond words. He could blame none but himself for what had happened between them. What had he done wrong?  
  
Elrond watched him carefully, "Was he the one who threatened Lord Gil- galad?"  
  
Eladlín nodded and looked away, trying to camouflage the tears in his eyes. But Elrond had seen the depth of his pain and he understood immediately. Resolving not to dwell on the matter any longer, silence ensued as Elrond searched for a new topic of conversation. "Did you have many friends in Númenor?"  
  
"No. I did not have any."  
  
"None? Why not?"  
  
Eladlín looked up at him slowly. "They wanted nothing to do with me. Their interest lay in swordplay and the farmland. I wanted only to meet an elf."  
  
Elrond could not hide his surprise. "Why?"  
  
Eladlín brought a tattered manuscript out of his pocket. "Mama's book. I wanted to learn to ride," he patted Caranaur gently, "to hunt with a bow, and I loved the sea. They did not understand, for my desires frightened them."  
  
Elrond smiled again. He had given the book to Elros at their last parting. He never realized that it would lead his nephew back to him.  
  
"I suppose I am strange, after all. Even my companions have seen fit to desert me. You are the only one who can still speak to me without clenched teeth. I am naught but a burden." Eladlín finished, finally voicing his concerns.  
  
Elrond reached over and lay his hand on the child's back, "I know that my words must mean nothing, but that is not true. So much has happened in the last few days, and no one knows how to deal with it. Confronting you means confronting their fears. They will have to face reality when they speak truly with you, and they know it."  
  
"What has happened?" he said firmly, pulling away from Elrond's touch. "If someone would at least have the decency to explain it to me.Do you see these scars? These muscles? I have earned them, I have toiled to earn my keep. I do not deserve this." He spurred Caranaur roughly and the horse spooked and flew for the protection of the woods. Elrond lingered for but a moment, reflecting on what Eladlín had said, before following him into the forest. If only he could catch him, he would tell him everything. The boy, though a child he was no longer, was right. He did not deserve his pain.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Back in the city, life was also amiss. Siriondil was trying vainly to figure out what to do, and the cryptic words of Mararion were of no help. "I want to stay but it is my duty to return to my men and captain the ship back to Númenor. And I do miss the sea so." he voice faded out and he inhaled deeply. He could almost taste the salty water.  
  
"Follow your heart." replied Mararion as he settled himself on a chair by the door.  
  
"But that is the problem!" exclaimed Siriondil, "My heart is split, I do not know which path to follow!"  
  
"Follow your heart." replied Mararion with a sly grin.  
  
Siriondil turned on him, now brandishing a hot fire poker. "If you say that one more time, you may never speak again."  
  
Mararion stood abruptly and made to leave. "I have told you once before, the advice of an elf is given rarely and should always be heeded." He turned on his heel and walked out of the room, leaving Siriondil looking rather odd indeed. The servants, who had been cleaning the room until the argument had started, looked at each other strangely. Siriondil glared at them. "Scat! Get out of here!" he yelled, waving the poker around dangerously and succeeding in injuring none but himself. As he sat down to nurse the growing blister on his hand, he glanced out the window. "What am I to do?" he asked softly.  
  
Mararion made for Eladlín's room. It was high time the boy was readied for supper. As he approached, he found Haldamir napping in the bench near the tower. "What are you doing?" he asked as he reached over and shook him. The elf leapt awake, and pulled out his dagger before Mararion could even react. "Since when do you attack your brother?" he demanded.  
  
"Since I have not slept in many moons." He walked away from him, his demeanor strange and wistful. "It is hard to come by these days."  
  
Mararion softened immediately. "I know what happened in the Wild, Haldamir. You do not need to hide it from me."  
  
Haldamir raised his arms as if to reply before they fell sadly to his side. "It was just.real. I have dreamed of her, of what could have been so many times. But this was different. I saw her, I felt her fingertips brush my face." he turned away again and started to walk out towards the stables but stopped short.  
  
"What is it?" asked Mararion.  
  
"Nephredil. I had forgotten, what with all the excitement and all. But she is no longer there." he turned away again and struck out for the shore. Mararion let him go, for he understood that some wounds could not be healed.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Lord Gil-galad collected himself and stood, brushing the grainy sand from his clothes.  
  
"My, my Lord?" called Nurnon cautiously.  
  
Gil-galad turned to face him. "I believe that I have grown weary, Nurnon."  
  
Nurnon's expression was grave. "It is not you, sire. 'Tis your heart."  
  
The King stared hard at Nurnon, who squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze. "Though you are young, and have yet to see battle, there is much wisdom in you, Nurnon. Do not forget that."  
  
"Thank, thank you my Lord." he stuttered.  
  
Gil-galad started to walk back towards the city. "Why have you roused me?" he asked.  
  
"Elrond seeks your guidance, my Lord. And the welcoming feast grows cold." he added as his stomach grumbled involuntarily.  
  
The elf quickened his pace. "Thank you, Nurnon. You may start the feast without me. Send Elrond to my private chambers."  
  
"As you wish, my Lord." said Nurnon as he bowed and took off at a run for the city. Gil-galad felt a smile creep up on his face as he watched Nurnon bowl over a merchant's cart. To Nurnon, making sure the orders were completed in a timely matter were of incredible importance. The lad was strangely loyal, but that was a fine trait to have in a servant. He just had yet to prove himself in battle. For war-strewn had been Gil-galad's life, and he judged his people on their experiences.  
  
A few minutes later, he arrived in his chamber to find Elrond already there. He was clearly anxious and pacing. As Elrond heard the door creak, he glanced up, his eyes wide. "What is it, Elrond?"  
  
"The boy. He has gone. I took him for a ride in the woods, but he grew angry with me and left. I cannot find him."  
  
Gil-galad did not waste time replying. He left the room with a sweep of his cape and Elrond followed on his heels. "He is somewhere in the Northern Forest. His steed is fast, and his hand is steady. I could not catch him."  
  
By now the pair had already found their way to the stables. "Ready Hrívërámar!" he called as they walked up to the stable. One stable hand flew into the stable, but the other lingered. "What of Avadthurin, my Lord?" he asked, directing his question at Elrond, for even as he spoke the stallion thrashed at the stall door. Elrond disappeared into the barn in reply. A few moments later he reappeared, his horse almost magically calmed. Gil-galad waiting impatiently for him, and Hrívërámar, his white mare, wheeled and stamped. "Take the eastern path. I will spread the word to the west." Elrond left at once, but Gil-galad looked down at the nervous stable hand. "Go to the Great Hall and tell Nurnon to spread the word. The boy is missing." If the stable hand found this message strange, he did not comment, but left at once. Hrívërámar leapt into the woods, for although she was a seasoned mare, she was also a descendent of the Mearas, and did not tire easily.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Caranaur stumbled over the undergrowth and Eladl(n pitched forward, nearly tumbling from his perch. He urged the horse on faster, but Caranaur slowed as they left the trail behind them and reached a small stream. Eladlín dismounted, ready to yell at his steed, but then he got a clear look at him. His head was down and his sides struggled to bring in enough breath. He coughed, and a shiver of pain coursed through his body. All anger was forgotten, and Eladlín immediately regretted hurting his friend. Though truly hurt was not the word, for he had nearly broken him. He walked back over to him and Caranaur made a great effort in lifting his head to greet him. Eladlín winced, for the horse's continued friendship hit him harder than the sight of his troubled breathing. "I am sorry, my friend. We will not continue until you are ready, and even then at a slower pace. We are far enough away, they will not catch us."  
  
Caranaur swung his head back and nudged him. He had been bred to ride, and the fact that his body slowed him down was an embarrassment to him. His heart was still full of pride, and he would not fail the boy.  
  
Eladlín laughed softly. "No Caranaur. We will rest. I am tired as well." The horse gave him a quizzical look and walked slowly over to the stream to drink. Eladlín settled himself under a large beech tree and drifted slowly off into sleep. Though he knew not where his newfound freedom would take him, he knew what he had left, and that was enough to comfort him.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The stable hand broke through the doors of the Great Hall and stood panting amidst the others.  
  
Nurnon looked at him kindly. He had been in similar circumstances frequently. "What is it?" he asked.  
  
The stable hand looked up, "Lord Gil-galad and Elrond sent me here. They are searching the northern woods. The boy.the boy is gone."  
  
The hall stood at once in a sudden wave of motion and noise. Mararion found his way to Siriondil and Haldamir. They both looked up at him, unsure of how to proceed. "We ride." he said shortly before sweeping out of the hall. They followed on his heels, and within a few minutes were mounted on their respective steeds. Siriondil struck off at once for the shore. He could feel it pulling at his heart constantly, and he knew that Eladlín felt it as well.  
  
Siriondil's intuitions were right, though Eladlín did not realize where he was headed. When he awoke, he mounted the recovered Caranaur and trotted slowly down the river. He knew that it would hide their scent, and the cold water soothed Caranaur's sweaty flanks. Eventually, the river widened as it prepared to mingle with the salty seas. As the horse and rider stepped out onto the sand, it was a magnificent sight to behold. The wind whipped around them, giving life to Caranaur's mane and Eladlín's mop of hair. The horse sidestepped uncertainly, as he did not know what to do, and Eladlín tightened his grip in the horse's mane. He steered him over to the firmer sand, where the water crashed against the shore, and nudged him softly. The horse responded, his body leaping out of sand as though he intended to fly. His hindquarters gathered speed until he could travel no faster, for the confines of the world held him back. He slowed after a few minutes and returned to a walk, his desire fulfilled. Eladlín smiled. Though he had forgotten the smells and the sounds, the sea had still crashed within his heart. "I know not where our road takes us, my friend, but as long as we are near the shore, I doubt we shall be of want for happiness." Caranaur whinnied in agreement. Having been born near the shores of Edhellond, he too could appreciate the beauty of the ocean.  
  
"Eladlín!" called Siriondil, "Eladlín!" He could see the boy's outline in the distance. The boy sighed and paused, for he knew that Tossgalenas would outrun them eventually as her legs were still fresh. 'Twas pointless to run. Siriondil nudged Tossgalenas into a gentle canter and reached Eladlín within a few minutes. "You are still here! Bless the sea."  
  
Eladlín frowned slightly, as he did not understand Siriondil's meaning, and replied, "Not for long. My journey will take me farther north."  
  
"Think not of where your journey takes you. Think of where your heart takes you. Would you leave those you have taken you in as their own? Mararion, who mended your clothes, lent you his horse? Haldamir, who has left his home in the mountains and nearly died to protect you?.Would you leave me?" As he spoke, the words of Mararion reverberated within him. He knew now that his heart was not spilt, but that his mind had spoken for his heart.  
  
Eladlín's stern look faltered. Siriondil sat mounted before him, his tears glistening in the soft light of the sunset. "No. I would not leave you. I could never leave you, for you are a father to me, and I will never forget that."  
  
Siriondil dismounted and looked up at him, "And you are more than I could have ever hoped for in a son." Eladlín dismounted as well, and embraced him firmly.  
  
Mararion trotted out of the woods, and stopped short. He smiled broadly, for the bond between the man and the boy light a fire within his own heart. He turned and started the journey back to the city. Perhaps things were starting to go right after all. At least one of them had found the end to their journey.  
  
~~~~~~~~~  
  
Siriondil and Eladlín rode back to the city some time later. Mararion had informed the others of his findings, and the would-be rescuers had returned to the city, none more relieved than Elrond. He had taken responsibility for the boy's flight upon himself. It was all his fault, for he should have confided in him. But to trust a child with everything he had to tell.he did not know how Eladlín would be able to handle it. Yet somewhere within him he understood that Eladlín was not an ordinary boy, and he knew that he was underestimating him. As the pair rode into the stable's courtyard, he alone stepped forward from the others. Gil-galad lurked back in the shadows, his look hard and approving. He knew what strength it took to reveal the truth, and he was proud of Elrond. He had taught him well, but that was all he could do. It was not up to him, it was Elrond's decision, for it concerned his kin.  
  
Siriondil nudged Eladlín gently. He whipped around, his eyes large and frightened. "What am I to do?" he asked quietly.  
  
Siriondil smiled down at him, "Go to him. Though you do not know it yet, your heart leads you there."  
  
"My heart leads me here." he replied, his stubbornness taking over his fear. He knew that Siriondil was sending him on alone, but he did not feel ready to leave his protection.  
  
Siriondil's expression did not change as he stood motionless. Eladlín glanced between him and Elrond several times before he made his decision. He strode out into the courtyard and faced Elrond. "What is it that you wish to tell me?"  
  
"Many things, some of which you will not want to hear, and some of which you will not understand. But I shall tell you regardless." He walked out into the darkness, but Eladlín faltered again. He looked back at Siriondil, who still stood alone and quiet. He hesitated and followed Elrond out into the darkness.  
  
As Eladlín left the circle of light, Siriondil's worn heart finally broke. He knew that he had done the right thing by sending the boy on, but it was difficult nonetheless. Things would never be the same between them, for Eladlín would grow to love the elvish ways of Elrond, and eventually their connection would break. But such was the way of the world, and Siriondil was happy for the time that he had had. He walked away from the others, for their piteous looks were unbearable.  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
Eladlín loped after Elrond, whose pace was swifter than usual. Suddenly he stopped and Eladlín almost bowled into him. "Where are we?" the boy asked quietly, for his awe consumed his senses. A large moonlit lake spread out before them, white rocks reflecting the soft light of the moon. Moss curled down over the banks, but the grass was shorn and thick.  
  
Elrond seated himself on one of the larger rocks and Eladlín sat beside him. It took a few moments before he felt ready to reply, but reply he did. "I myself have not been here in many moons. This is the place where I last saw my brother." He registered the boy's surprise, and continued, "Yes, it seems strange, does it not? Even to me it does not make sense, though I have tried to sort it out many times. I suppose I should begin my journey with the leaving of my mother. When I was but a young child, a great war was waged near the tower where I lived. My mother bundled up my brother and I and snuck us out the rear entrance as the troops approached our home. We fled to the protection of the woods, and it was not until much later that I found out what had happened to my parents. As the war waged before her, my mother fled to the topmost floor of the tower. She leaned out of the window a Simaril in her hands. That stone was what caused the war in the first place, as it was the most beautiful stone ever seen in Middle-Earth. As she leaned out of the window, she wished for one last stroke of good fortune. She fell from the sill, but rather than go crashing to her death, she floated away. Ulmo, Vala of the Seas, had seen fit to turn her into a swan, and she flew gracefully away, on a journey to find my father. He was sailing the seas, looking for his parents and Valinor, among the other passions that ruled his troubled mind. Together they found Valinor and pleaded to the Gods to help defeat Morgoth, the evil Vala who had begun the war in the first place. After he was defeated, my father's ship was sent to the heavens to scan for his return, while my mother remained in Valinor and learned the speech and flight of birds, so she could fly to greet my father when his great journey brought them close."  
  
"Papa told me that story once. I thought it very beautiful then, as I do now. But what of you and your brother?"  
  
"Patience, young one. We were found by the enemy, the elves who were possessed with an obsession to find the Simarils. The one who found us, Maglor, took pity on us and released us to the care of Lord Gil-galad and he took us in. We remained with him until the time came for my brother and I to make our decisions. We chose to live separate lives, and I have not seen him since that fateful night."  
  
"But why did you have to choose to live apart? Why could you not live happily together?"  
  
"My life is both a blessing and a curse, Eladlín. My mother and father were both of the half-elven, meaning that each had a parent of elvish and human descent. As such they were given the power to choose their destiny. They could choose to have the immortality of the elves or the fleeting life of men. Both of them chose the elvish manner, but my brother and I were faced with same choice, and he chose mortality. I did not, and our parting was swift and bitter, for both of us believed that the other had chosen the wrong path. When I see you and your vivacity for life, I am reminded of myself as a child. That is why your father sent you to me, Eladlín. For your father is none other than my brother."  
  
Eladlín backed slowly away from him. "You speak falsely." he muttered, his mind not wanting to believe what he had heard.  
  
"I assure you, I do not. I am Elrond, and my brother is Elros. We were both named for the cave and the spray of the waterfall where we were found when Maglor discovered us."  
  
Eladlín shook his head in disbelief, but the stern gaze of Elrond clearly showed that the elf spoke the truth. After a few minutes of silence, Eladlín looked up, "Why did my father choose that path?"  
  
"I wish I knew, for if I did our parting would have been friendly, and there would be naught but good memories."  
  
"May I?"  
  
Elrond looked away for he had known that that question would come eventually, but it did not make it any easier to answer. "I do not believe so. Elros and I were both truly half-elven, but you are not, for your mother is of the race of men."  
  
Tears of anger sprang to Eladlín's eyes. "I hate him!" he yelled, "It was always him who made me participate in those awful hunting trips, who made the decision to move to Numenor," He paused and looked away, "who made me a man." He stood and turned away from Elrond. "I must leave you now, but I thank you for telling me the truth."  
  
"No." said Elrond calmly, "You cannot leave yet for I am not finished. I forewarned you that you would not want to hear much of what I had to tell you. Have you ever heard the tale of the Last Elf?"  
  
Eladlín hesitated before he turned, finally realizing that Elrond would be able to understand his tears. "Yes."  
  
"It is a tale that has brought comfort to me many times. Although he dragged you away from your destiny, Elros also deserted me. Can you understand what that feels like? Of course not, as I cannot fully understand your anger. But remember what you learned from the Last Elf. Never let your anger overpower your emotions. Consider the words of your mind before you act on your heart. It will not always lead you right. Though it seems like Elros did you a great wrongdoing, remember that he was trying to find a better life for you. He tried to give you everything he thought you wanted. And his way of apologizing was to send you to me. Though you may not have the longevity of elves in your blood, you are among us now and we will treat you as such."  
  
Eladlín lifted his tear-stained face to Elrond, whose face glowed a pale white from the gentle moonlight. Though he held back his tears, for he no longer had tears to weep with, his face was creased with lines of sorrow. "I am sorry for your pain." he said at long last.  
  
"As I am for your's." replied Elrond. When Elrond refused to elaborate, Eladlín fled from the lake. It held too many memories for him to linger any longer. Elrond watched him go, knowing that he had done the right thing but.now the boy would be haunted with the image of "What if?" It unsettled his soul, and he set out with his own journey to complete.  
  
Eladlín halted in chilling white of the moonlight. Without knowing it, his heart had taken him to the sea. He fell to his knees, his fists clenched tightly. He knew now that his journey had been his father's way of making amends, but it did not soothe the frustration that rose in his heart. He sank backwards on the beach, his body so consumed with feelings that it physically drained him. His mind argued between betrayal, anger, sorrow, understanding, and yet, through it all, hope. Hope that Siriondil would stay with him, hope that Elrond would keep to his word, and above all, hope that Elrond was wrong about his future. He did not feel fit in a mortal body, and even as he looked at his outstretched hand, he wished for something more. This life should not have been his to live, the choice had been wrongly made. He looked out over the ocean, knowing that somewhere out there was his father. "It's not fair," he sobbed quietly, "It should have been my choice as well." A small crunching noise on the beach made him look up, and what he saw took his breath away. A magnificent white stag strode openly across the beach, its ivory hooves sinking in the soft sand. As it reached the waning tide, it heaved a great sigh and turned to look at Eladlín, who lay bewildered in sand. He turned away, hoping that it would ignore him and carry on its business.  
  
"I know what it is you desire." said a voice inside his head. "I can see your thoughts and dreams."  
  
He looked back as the stag strode towards him. But even as he did, it changed swiftly from a stag to a beautiful woman. And yet, at the same time, Eladlín realized that she was not a woman. Her beauty surpassed that of any she had ever seen, her flowing hair more golden then the sun, her face the very definition of elegance and grace. Flowers sprung up in her wake, as though her very footsteps were the salt of the earth. Her eyes shown a luminous blue. She wore a tightly fitted white gown, hemmed with the silvery shimmer of dew, and made of a fabric lighter and more beautiful than any ever seen on Middle-Earth.  
  
"Who.who are you?" stuttered Eladlín, at a complete loss for words.  
  
She laughed, a glowing, sparkling sound. "I am V(na the Ever-Young, wife of Orom( and a Queen of the Valar."  
  
He nodded slowly, understanding and yet disbelieving at the same time. "Why have you come here? What of your own land?"  
  
"I have come to speak with you, for you are a descendent of Elwing, or Ninqualqua, as she is known among my people. She has watched you from afar since you were a babe, and she has asked me to bequeath you one wish. She is one of my truest companions, and her favor I will grant freely. Speak wisely, for you may not change your mind. It must be a wish true of heart, for my powers alone will not grant it. What is it you desire?"  
  
Eladlín did not reply immediately, for her understood the graveness in her voice. Her coming to the shores of Middle-Earth was not a trival matter, and he could not answer her without searching deep within himself. As the silence wavered between them, the strength of her beauty seemed to grow, for she herself had searched deep within the boy and found him to her approval. At long last, he looked back up at her. "Have you made your choice?"  
  
"Yes, milady. I wish to become an elf."  
  
Her smile broadened. Ninqualqua, though V(na had doubted her, had been right. Inside the child was a heart of gold, uncorrupted by the world around him. When he could have asked for the all the riches in the world, the fastest steed, the most beautiful castle, he had chosen that which he knew above all else would make him truly happy. "Kneel before me, Eladlín son of Elros." He did so obediently and looked to the ground. She strode the last few steps until she stood fully in front of him and laid one pearl- white finger on his forehead. Suddenly she was gone, and Eladlín would have thought it all a dream if not for the white flowers wilting in the sand. He raised his hand to his ear and traced the pointed leaf pattern. His hand unfolded in front of him, no longer with the chunkiness of a man, but with the slender beauty of an elf. He rose to his feet and his vision sharpened immediately as he discerned gulls playing in the tide pools a few miles down the shore. His hearing was also keener, and he heard footsteps approach him from behind. A ragged Elrond approached him, knowing nothing of what had just passed. At first his gaze lingered on the dying flowers, which without their maiden's beauty perished quickly in the desert of the beach, but then his gaze shifted to Eladlín. The boy had changed subtlety. Most striking of was the grin spread across his face, but that was not it. Something had happened, but he did not understand what. At long last they faced one another, and it was then that Elrond saw the gentle curve of his ear. He froze, not wanting to believe it, and slowly raised one hand to stroke the boy, as though he could not believe it without touching it himself. As his hand fell back, something seized him, and he flung his arms unexpectedly around Eladlín's shoulders. His sorrow and pity forgotten, Eladlín returned his embrace, knowing that his change had mended the loneliness in Elrond's heart.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Mararion readied Midheiliant. The companions had decided to partake on one last ride up the shore before they parted ways. Mararion and Haldamir were destined for the townships of the Noldor in the North, while Radagast had his own business to attend to in the forest. Siriondil and Eladlín were to remain in Mithlond, for Siriondil could not part with Eladlín, nor could Eladlín leave what remained of his family. They mounted as one and struck off for the shoreline. Eladlín sat astride Caranaur, and Siriondil was on Tossgalenas. Haldamir and Radagast were mounted on steeds of the deepest bay coloring. They were gifts from the court of Lord Gil-galad, as their own steeds had perished en route to Mithlond. Mith(l followed slowly behind. Even though there was no baggage for her to carry and her wounds had yet to heal, she would not be left behind. A laughing Mararion had released her from her stall and she followed them resolutely. "She is a stubborn beast." he remarked.  
  
The tone of their outing was light, but with a serious undertone. Each knew that this may well be the last time they saw each other. "Even though we will not have to worry about losing you to the perils of old age!" joked Haldamir as he nudged the lad. Eladlín blushed and looked away. Since his change, the others had not treated him different outwardly, but he knew that deep within himself he now shared a kinship with Haldamir and Mararion.  
  
Radagast smiled, his wizened face reflecting his happiness. His decision to go with them had been right after all. His influence had given Mararion the confidence to lead the others, and together they made it through the perilous wild. Though pressing business now lead him away, he knew that the small part he had played had indeed influenced the outcome of the journey.  
  
Caranaur reared, his fiery legs kicking out in front of him. He bounded out a few steps in front of the others and turned to face them, as if challenging them to follow. Midheiliant responded, oblivious to the heading of Mararion. The others followed suit, and before long the five companions galloped as one down the beach. Mith(l limped silently behind, for she was content just to know the others were there; racing had never been in her blood. Suddenly, Caranaur spooked. He pawed nervously at the ground and sidestepped into Tossgalenas, who bucked in response. Mararion sat up and let his keen senses take over as his body struggled to contain his own steed.  
  
But Eladlín beat him to it. "There, in the thicket!" he cried, pointing to the edge of the woods as he urged Caranaur on. The pair flew across the sand as Eladlín urged the fiery little chestnut on. Haldamir followed close on his heels, but with so little weight on his back, Caranaur started to pull away. "Eladlín!" called Mararion, "Stop! You know not what lies there!"  
  
Eladlín ignored his words and rode until he reached the mysterious figure. As he dismounted, a weak wicker reached his ears, and he pulled back the thorns to find an injured Mânêl standing guard over Vinyayáviëiel, the elf from Edhellond. She looked up at Eladlín, her face a deathly pale. "I must find Mararion." she whispered as she collapsed on the ground.  
  
~~~~~~~~~  
  
And even more housekeeping notes.  
  
Mearas: the strain of horses that Shadowfax belonged to. The greatest of the Horse "breeds", they were often thought of as the Lords of Horses and were thought to have been brought to Middle-Earth by the Valar.  
  
Hrívërámar: Quenya for Winter's Wings, literally  
  
Avadthurin: Sindarian for Secret Reluctance. *looks at all the reviewers rolling their eyes*.Ok, well I found it funny.  
  
Wow, I'm really mean, aren't I? Yes, I know what a horrible ending that was..but hopefully my next chapter should be up faster, so don't get too mad at me. Thanks for all the reviews, everyone!!! 


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